....you shave your legs.  You wear clothes that can be easily changed out of.  You get a hand cramp from filling out endless amounts of paperwork about information that hasn’t changed since last year’s appointment.  You get ready to have every bit of your personal space invaded. And you prepare yourself to see that number.  The long-awaited number on that digital box from the devil.
            "Can I take my shoes off?" I ask.
            "You don't need to." says the nurse.
And before the nurse can get the words out, I've kicked those suckers off and stepped onto the scale (shoes add weight you know!). Closing my eyes tightly, I stand there, trying like an owl to do a 180 with my head.  "Please don't say the number! Please don't say the number!" I think to myself.  And then, wham bam, it's over.  My weight has officially been recorded for everyone... those who are on my HIPPA papers... no one to see.

Now, I don't want to scare off the two men (my husband and my dad) that actually read my writings, so I will spare any more details of that dreaded yearly exam to the gynecologist.  After all, this isn't a PSA for women's health.  But my question for us all is....

WHY DOES THAT DAGGONE SCALE HAVE SO MUCH POWER OVER US???? Why does a box full of wires and circuits get to determine whether I'm having a good day or not?  When did those digits that showed up on the screen get the authority to tell me if I'm worthy of a meal?  For too long, society has placed so much value on what a person weighs, that we have begun to use it as a moral indicator as well.  "Oh, she's so good.  She can still fit in the same jeans she wore in college....Man, he's really let go of himself and gained a lot of weight."  I have believed the lies too.  I bought into the idea that if my weight was down a pound or two, then I was successful. I could be the woman I was created to be because I weighed less today than I did yesterday.  BUT, on the other hand, if (heaven forbid!) I enjoyed too much food the night before and my weight was up, then I was a failure--not just at my dieting, but AT LIFE.  I wasn't good enough for anything: friendships, ministry, home management...you name it.

I think it's interesting when we worship something that gives us nothing in return.  Although I never literally bowed down to the scale, I definitely adored it, gave it all my attention, and looked to it as my god.  It was my savior.  And a horrible one at that.  Who needs a savior that changes every day?   What kind of god causes you to starve yourself for weeks and restrict your water intake--all for a doctor's appointment?   Who wants to serve a god that promises happiness and life, but in the end only offers frustration and shame?  Leviticus 19:4 says, "Do not turn to idols or make for yourselves any gods of cast metal:  I am the Lord your God."  The scale has literally become an idol made of cast metal.

You may be one of the few people that say you don't think about your weight, and that's awesome! But everyone still has a personal "scale" of some kind.  You've got something that has promised the world, but always comes up short.  That thing that tells you you are valuable, worthy, and successful in life.  Number of views you get on Facebook....approval rating from your boss...the amount on your paycheck....the grades your kids get....how many church activities you're involved with...the age at which your toddler is potty-trained...the mirror...your child's athletic success....NONE of it can deliver as promised.  NONE of it has power to determine your worth.  NONE of it compares to the joy we get from being grounded in HIM.  HE is the one that gives us value and tells us we are successful. HE is the gauge that measures our success.   And He will share His throne with nothing and no one.