All You Can Eat

Have you ever eaten at Sweet Tomatoes Restaurant (or Soup Plantation) before? It’s one of my favorite restaurants. Or, was. Not that long ago, I heard the unfortunate news that they have had to close all their locations due to the coronavirus, most likely seeing that their all-you-can-eat model would not be sustainable in our foreseeable future of social-distance craziness.

Oh, how I loved those times we were in Tampa or Atlanta where we could enjoy an absolutely delicious salad bar, scrumptious bakery delights (mmmm… coconut muffins), mouth watering deserts, and a lobster bisque that was to die for!

Oh, Sweet Tomatoes, I mourn my loss of you.

And then I recalled a certain email advertisement I received a few years back. “41 million hungry Americans need our help,” the title read. It then offers the opportunity to donate $1 to help provide 10 meals for hungry children. Then I kept scrolling to see the usual coupons that “save” me $1.75 if I just spend $40 to feed my family of five.

This just seemed ironic. Don’t get me wrong, I applaud a company’s efforts to bring awareness and financial aid to a real issue. But this is such a startling snap shot of American “Generosity.” “Come gorge yourself at our all-you-can-eat buffet for $10/person. And while you are here, donate a buck to help feed some starving children so you can feel better about your obesity.”

Please recognize something. I am not talking about other people, or about physical weight gain. I am talking about me. And although I may not be visibly plump, I am spiritually bloated with abundant blessings that I horde in greed. Sure, I occasionally toss a check here or there to a charity or cause, or allow the homeless man at the gas station to pry a single dollar from my reluctant hand, pretending that the loose change I pulled out of the couch cushion was some kind of sacrifice on my part. Perhaps it is a demonstration of my generosity—pathetic.

“Do not eat the bread of a man who is stingy; do not desire his delicacies, for he is like one who is inwardly calculating. "Eat and drink!" he says to you, but his heart is not with you. You will vomit up the morsels that you have eaten, and waste your pleasant words. –Proverbs 23:6-8

Oh, God, are you speaking about me? Have I not offered to share with others, but inwardly hoped the other person would politely decline? Have I not offered to pay for a meal, hoping the other person would select from the cheaper things on the menu? Have I not evaluated a gift to purchase for a friend solely by the price tag? Have I not greedily consumed what is offered to me free of charge, without a second thought to share that blessing with others?

Too often I find myself hunched over my belongings like Gollum, clutching my precious treasures, terrified they will leave my possession. “MINE!” my flesh shouts. But unlike that pitiful creature, my inner Gollum is quite overweight. Like Eli and Eglon (1Sa 4:18; Jdg 3:17) I have consumed what was to be offered to the Lord in thanksgiving (1Ti 4:4), and it has caused me to be “fat” with greed, my stomach and eye never satisfied (Ecc 1:8; 6:7). Now every time I attempt to be generous, I begun to hear my spiritual wheeze, “heavy” with possessions. The threat to my life has become very real (Mat 5:29-30).

“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your comfort already. Woe to you who are well satisfied with food now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all people speak well of you, for their ancestors did the same things to the false prophets.” –Luke 6:24-26

I need to go on a spiritual diet. Not some trend or fad, but a program that will guarantee some major weight loss.

“Jesus said to him, ‘If you wish to be perfect, go sell your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.’ But when the young man heard this he went away sorrowful, for he was very rich.” –Matthew 19:21-22

So this is the solution: Give it away. All of it if necessary. Whatever possessions keep us from following Christ, we need to abandon them. No matter how integrated something has become a part of our who we are—amputate it (Mat 18:7-9). Donate it. Give it away. Throw it out. Delete the App.

Focus instead on being rich in good deeds, sharing everything we have with others (even if it comes back damaged or never comes back at all). Perhaps we need to stop using the “principle of the tithe” and giving God a comfortable percent as if we’ve done Him a favor returning some of His money, and start giving until it hurts. Perhaps we need to purchase take-out, only to leave it in the hands of a beggar. Perhaps we need to start leaving our doors unlocked, inviting thieves to come take what we really don’t need.

But realize something about this diet plan, if you are doing it simply to look trim and boast in front of the mirror, it will be ineffective.

“Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘I tell you the truth, it will be hard for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven! Again I say, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter into the kingdom of God.’ The disciples were greatly astonished when they heard this and said, ‘Then who can be saved?’ Jesus looked at them and replied, ‘This is impossible for mere humans, but for God all things are possible.’” –Matthew 19:23-26

So if you find yourself unable to release these things, if you find it difficult to be “rich in good deeds” (1Ti 6:18), and to give freely (2Co 9:6-7), then you are trying to do it in your own power. Rather, fix your eyes on Jesus, and seek the things “above” where He sits (Col 3:1). It is there that our desires will change within. There we will see greater wealth than the stuff we cling to down here (Heb 11:24-26). The trinkets we once clutched to our hearts will be more easily abandoned when we see how they rust and tarnish (Mat 6:19-20). Giving will becoming more compelling than receiving (Act 20:35) as God shows us 100% of what we have is His (Deu 10:14), and we begin to sacrifice painful amounts “cheerfully” (2Co 9:7). And day by day we will find our burden lighter, our load easier to carry (Mat 11:30)—our hearts no longer counting coin, but blessings in which to give thanks (Psa 28:7).