Ever seen that Gatorade commercial with guys in the weight
room or football field yelling “one more”, as they do one more rep, one more
squat, one more fall-and-back-up on the football field. “One More” is even written on the
ceiling as a man weight lifts on the bench.
I’d
venture to say that we’ve all experienced a kind of “what’s one more?”, but
maybe of a different nature.
"What’s one more potato chip?"
What’s one more scoop of ice cream? One more Oreo? One more French fry? One more brownie? One more Diet Coke? After all, it is diet.
What’s one more YouTube video? One more pep talk from Kid President. One more Breaking Bad episode? One more music video. After all, what did the fox say?
What’s one more game? One more level on Minecraft, World of Warcraft, or Final Fantasy? One more dominance on Madden, Call of Duty, Halo? One more
touchdown, sniper shot, chance at capturing the flag ---red team wins.
What’s one sitting of Thursday
Night Football? Well, my real
team plays Sunday at 1. And my
Fantasy quarterback is playing at the 4:25. I have to catch Manning, I mean, Brady, I mean, Rodgers for
Sunday night. And everyone looks forward to Monday Night Football. What’s one more check on my Fantasy
team?
What’s one more drink?
One more shot? One more
Coors? One more Miller? One more Bud to keep us company?
What’s one more press on the snooze button? One more timer of 20 minutes? One more hour? Or another? Or another?
What’s one more porn video? The first one was out of curiosity. While we’re here what’s another
one? Or another one? OK, let’s stop, but let’s end on a
better one. ...What’s one more?
 |
| Once you pop... |
What’s one more cigarette? Or one more hit?
Just one more to escape for a moment. To escape. Just
one more.
Whew, I’m hungry.
What’s one more potato chip?
What’s one more potato chip?
-----
If
you’re like me, you’ve told yourself “one more” to one, or two, or many of
these instances in the past as recent as last month, last week, or the last
hour. It’s not like all of
these things are intrinsically evil in themselves. There is no harm in that one chip, one YouTube clip, or even
that one hit on snooze. Nor is a
cold one during a celebration. But
what’s happening when it becomes one more, or another, or another?
One
word: escapism. What are we escaping
from? It’s that hard question we
do not want to deal with. That
wound in our life we do not want to face, that insecurity, that fear, that
“am-I-good-enough?” feeling. The
let me “feel-good” for just one moment.
Let me escape.
Maybe
it’s the lack of purpose. The
feeling of “does-this-even-matter?”
The
“when-will-I-ever-use-this-formula-again-that’s-what-calculators-are-for”
feeling. (Shout-out to my lovely
wife, a math teacher). The feeling
of “why-dress-up-it’s-not-like-I’ll-talk-to-any-guys-and-will-never-get-married”. The feeling of
“what-am-I-doing-with-my-life-anyway?”
Let me escape.
Or
maybe the hardest, a lack of discipline.
An unset schedule between classes or a span of afternoon work with no
deadlines (given to you or given to yourself) is just asking for a distraction
disaster. The "I-know-I-can-do-this-in-an-hour-so-I'll-wait-until-tomorow" which actually turns into doing it 30 minutes before it's actually needed.
The
answers? Dealing with our
wounds? Dealing with purpose and
motivation? Dealing with
discipline? Another post. (Although hint: going confession to
start over again, fasting for a cause or a person, falling in love with God in
your own personal way, paying attention to positive
things we love like music playing, reading, and exercising, and setting
specific time schedules with accountability and are all places to start).
But
it begins with that desire to want to.
It’s not like the distractions come to us, we come to the
distractions. It’s St. Augustine
all over again: “Give me chastity, but not yet.”
Maybe
I’m talking to you. I’m definitely
talking to myself.
Until then: what’s one more?
Amén.
Amén.
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