Sweet sin of temptation

Tales from the Front Pew

Let’s talk temptation, shall we?

Merriam Webster’s online dictionary defines it as “the act of tempting or the state of being tempted, especially to evil; enticement.”

Not to brag, but I can provide a much more succinct definition — fudge. That’s right, fudge.

It all began a week ago when my husband, Bob, and I stopped at a restaurant. I won’t name the place, but it’s the one with an extensive gift shop with clothing, jewelry, seasonal decorative items and candy — old fashioned lemon drops, pecan logs, licorice sticks, gum balls, and … fudge. Not just any fudge, but maple praline fudge.

Unbeknownst to yours truly, while I was perusing the ceramic pumpkin and gourd autumn-themed merchandise, Bob was making a clandestine fudge purchase. I discovered this when we got home.

“Bob,” I inquired. “Did you buy fudge?”

Someone once opined that there are no stupid questions, but I beg to differ. That was a stupid question. Of course, Bob bought fudge. It hadn’t been sneaked into our house by a marauding band of fudge smugglers.

“Yeah, I did,” Bob said. “It’s maple praline.”

Being diabetic, my husband tries not to indulge in sweets, but he has a weak spot when it comes to anything maple flavored. Apparently, maple praline fudge was just too tempting to resist.

Unfortunately, Bob made a big mistake. He underestimated the potential effect temptation might have on me.

It was okay the first day. Every once in a while, I’d find myself glancing at the as-yet-unopened box of fudge where it sat on the kitchen counter, but I managed to keep my hands off of it. The problem, however, was that Bob wasn’t eating it, either. I don’t know if he was exercising Herculean self-control or had totally forgotten it was even there. Whatever the reason, he hadn’t had a bite.

On day two, the temptation got the best of me. I walked into the kitchen, opened the box of fudge and cut off a sliver.

One sliver led to another, and before you could say “glutton,” I’d finished off a third of the box. Still, I told myself it wasn’t that bad. There was plenty left for Bob.

And there would have been, too, if I hadn’t succumbed again the next day. Now, two-thirds was gone.

Later that night, I polished off half of the last third, leaving a teeny corner at the end of the box.

The following evening, Bob finally got a hankering for maple praline fudge.

“Kim!” he yelled from the kitchen, “What happened to my fudge?”

“I guess someone ate it,” I told him.

“Someone?” he asked.

“Okay, me. But really, I did you a favor. Fudge isn’t good for somebody with diabetes.”

“You might be joining me after ingesting half a pound in three days,” he said, clearly unimpressed by my sacrifice.

Fortunately, things ended in a truce. Bob promised to hide any future fudge, and I promised to not look for it … very hard.

Temptation can be a slippery slope. The enemy uses it, a little at a time, to lure us into sin. It’s important we remain vigilant and keep our eyes on Jesus.