The Multi-Headed Monster
When most people hear the word lust, their minds jump immediately to sexual sin. But Scripture paints a much broader picture. Lust is any desire that demands our obedience. It’s the quiet pull of something that promises comfort, escape, or satisfaction — and slowly becomes the thing we turn to instead of God.
Food can be one of those desires. Not because food is evil, but because our hearts are vulnerable. We can surrender to the wrong things without even realizing it. Not food as nourishment. Not food as a gift from God. But food as something I run to, obey, and surrender to without even thinking. Food as comfort. Food as escape. Food as the thing I turn to when I’m stressed, tired, lonely, or overwhelmed.
The Truth I Couldn’t Ignore
Oswald Chambers said something in his March 14th devotional that hit me like a hammer: the root of lust is surrendering to any desire that presents itself. The moment we give in, we hand that desire authority. We let it take the driver’s seat. And once we’ve surrendered, we discover that we’re not the ones in control anymore.
That’s exactly what Paul was getting at in Romans 6:16 — whatever we obey becomes our master. It doesn’t matter if the desire looks harmless. It doesn’t matter if it’s socially acceptable. If we obey it, it rules us.
My First Chance at Freedom
And I’ve felt that rule in my own body. I’m overweight. I’m dealing with type 2 diabetes and stage 3 kidney disease. These aren’t abstract spiritual metaphors for me — they’re the physical consequences of years of letting desire call the shots.
But this struggle didn’t start yesterday. I’ve been wrestling with food for decades. Back in 2015, when I turned 60, I hit a point of total despair. I felt trapped in my own body, trapped in my habits, trapped in a cycle of surrendering to the wrong desires. Out of that desperation I prayed that God would let me experience, for the first time in my life, what it felt like to “normal”; what it felt like to wear clothes I was comfortable in without being self-conscious of my weight.
Almost immediately I found information on the keto diet. And, to my surprise, it worked. I lost 50 pounds in four months. I felt better than I had in years. I enjoyed one of the best summers of my entire life. I honestly thought the Lord had handed me a lifeline — a chance to turn things around.
When Food Becomes More Than Food
But then winter came. The holidays rolled in. And I got cocky. I told myself I could indulge “just until New Year’s Day” and then jump right back into the way of eating that had given me so much hope. But I never did. No matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t get back to that place of discipline and clarity. And somewhere deep inside, I started believing that I had blown it — that I had wasted the one chance God had given me to get free.
That belief sat on my shoulders for years. It fed the shame. It fed the hopelessness. It fed the idea that I was stuck with the consequences of my own surrender.
But now, at 70 years old, something unexpected has happened. I’ve been given another chance. Not a repeat of 2015 — something different. Something quieter. Something steadier. I’ve begun what people call the Carnivore Diet, though I’m starting to hate the word “diet” all together. I don’t want this to be a temporary fix or a short-term project. I want it to be a course correction — a new way of eating, a new way of living, a new way of relating to desire.
Before I started, I apologized to God for wasting the opportunity He gave me sixteen years ago. Not because I think He holds grudges, but because I needed to acknowledge the truth: I had surrendered to the wrong desire, and it had ruled me for a long time.
What’s Working for Me Now
But something is different this time. Since I started this new way of eating, I don’t feel the need to eat between meals. Snacking — which used to feel like a compulsion — just isn’t part of my life right now. I only eat when I’m truly hungry, usually once a day. Meat, fish, eggs, and a little full-fat dairy. Simple. Steady. Quiet. And somehow, it feels like grace.
My blood glucose levels are under control — after only a few days. And for the first time in a long time, I see light at the end of the tunnel. Not because I’ve suddenly become strong, but because I’m finally learning what Chambers was trying to say: once a desire becomes a master, I can’t break free from it by willpower.
I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’ve tried again. I’ve failed again. And every time I fall back into the same patterns, I’m reminded of something I’d rather not admit:
I can’t free myself.
But Jesus Can
That’s not a cliché for me. It’s the only explanation for why I’m still fighting instead of giving up. Christ doesn’t just forgive the sins we commit — He breaks the chains we willingly locked around our own wrists. He steps into the places where we’ve surrendered to the wrong things and says, “This one belongs to Me.”
Lust has many faces. Mine just happens to look like a plate instead of a person. But the answer is the same for all of us:
Only Jesus Can Break the Chains of the Shackles of Lust
And maybe that’s the part that humbles me the most — that at seventy years old, with a body that has already absorbed the consequences of my choices, God would still hand me another chance. Not the same chance I had at sixty. Not a rewind. But a new mercy for a new season of life.
I don’t know where this path will lead. I don’t know how much healing is possible at this stage. But I do know this: I’m not walking it alone. The same Lord I once believed I had disappointed beyond repair is the One giving me strength to take the next step, and the next, and the next.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not trying to “fix myself.” I’m simply learning to obey a different Master — the One who doesn’t enslave, but frees. The One who doesn’t shame, but restores. The One who doesn’t give up on His children, even when they’ve given up on themselves.
Lust may have many faces, but grace has only one: Jesus Christ–Son of God, Redeemer and Liberator.