This post is for men only. You women have to go read something else today. May I suggest Rachel Held Evans post Thou Shall Not Let Thyself Go?
Some of you have a problem.
And it’s growing.
The women have asked me to speak to you about this matter. It seems some of you spend more time watching sports than you do playing them.
You’ve given into temptation.
There’s no use denying it, you know.
It’s beginning to show.
I understand the pressure to keep yourself fit, really I do. But c’mon, you’re a man, after all. You’re free to let yourself go, whereas we women are constantly bombarded with the message that if we do, we might lose you. So we pluck-n-tuck, and wax-and-wrap.
While you float-and-fish.
Now, granted, you are never likely to hear a sermon preached on this matter given that the bulk of preaching in this country is done by men who like to float-and-fish.
And while I looked and looked I couldn’t find any scripture warning you that if you don’t shape up, your woman might ship out.
But I did find one rather disturbing story from Judges 4:
Meanwhile Sisera, running for his life, headed for the tent of Jael, wife of Heber the Kenite. Jabin king of Hazor and Heber the Kenite were on good terms with one another. Jael stepped out to meet Sisera and said, “Come in, sir. Stay here with me. Don’t be afraid.”
So he went with her into her tent. She covered him with a blanket.
19 He said to her, “Please, a little water. I’m thirsty.”
She opened a bottle of milk, gave him a drink, and then covered him up again.
20 He then said, “Stand at the tent flap. If anyone comes by and asks you, ‘Is there anyone here?’ tell him, ‘No, not a soul.'”
21 Then while he was fast asleep from exhaustion, Jael wife of Heber took a tent peg and hammer, tiptoed toward him, and drove the tent peg through his temple and all the way into the ground. He convulsed and died.
22 Barak arrived in pursuit of Sisera. Jael went out to greet him. She said, “Come, I’ll show you the man you’re looking for.” He went with her and there he was—Sisera, stretched out, dead, with a tent peg through his temple.
Kind of gruesome isn’t it?
Consider it a word of warning the next time the neighbor lady invites you over for some milk and cookies.
Keep on running instead.