Is there something you always want to do, but you just…don’t?

Let me give you an example.

Every time I open our fridge, I see a sparsely populated jar of pickles and ALL I want to do is drink straight from the jar. Even as I type this, the taste buds in my mouth are twitching in an unholy celebration of anticipation at such a possibility.

Does this sound bizarre to you? Maybe it is. To be clear, I LOVE pickles and the subsequent juice that flows from them, but it is a forbidden love.

In high school, when our youth group would go on mission trips, I was always able to convince a chaperone to take us to the grocery store so we could load up on sustenance for the week.  
By “sustenance”, I mean foods your parents would never buy you. By “foods you parents would never buy you” I mean: the 1 lb bag of peanut butter M&Ms, the plastic jar of individually wrapped beef jerkey, and Cheetos. Also on this list? A jar of pickles.
You might be saying,  “Hey Knox, are you saying your parents never had a jar of pickles in the house? That’s just hard to believe.” And you know what, Friend? That WOULD be hard  to believe. 
But you’re also probably talking about a NORMAL size jar of pickles. I’m talking about  the obnoxiously big, man-sized jar that could preserve two full-sized pig fetuses in it. Be honest: before now, have you ever known someone who bought these? You do now.

I tell you this for a two-fold purpose:
#1. Proof that pickles have always been indelibly weaved into the fabric of who I am. I love them, richly.
#2. If you happened to be in the area where my youth group visited and you happened to interact with a pickle-smelling kid…well I suppose I owe you a belated apology.

See that’s the issue with pickles. Their smell is so prolific that it kind of ruins them as fixtures in the social finger food scene. So essentially, giving in to my pickle-loving ways means a weighted choice: eat the pickle and inadvertantly wear the pickle smell as a not-awesome cologne OR refuse it and nurse an unmet desire that strangles the very soul of who I am.

This idea isn’t limited to pickles though. 
We all have these decisions where we are forced to strike a balance with who we want to be and who we need to be. Obviously, this goes beyond pickles, but the essential idea remains. What I want to be conflicts with what I need to be. 

I want an iPad. SO bad. So very, very bad. But the money I want to spend on an iPad needs to be appropriated to other areas. More responsible areas.

I want to sleep later in the mornings. But I know I need to get up earlier and do my Bible study, because otherwise, I’ll get busy and do nothing.

So who are you today? What’s something you’re inherently conflicted about?

*Go ahead. Ask. I know you are wondering, “Gee Knox which kind of pickle is your favorite?” Great question and though there are many candidates, the #1 option is CLEARLY Vlasic Zesty spears. They are the Sinatra of pickles.
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