Sometimes the Lord let’s us suffer so we can learn our lessons. Like when you were a kid and your parents let you rest your cheek on a hot stove? That way you know the excruciating pain that can be caused from touching something hot, and you can have battle scars to tell your social worker… uh, I mean friends, about. Because sometimes we don’t learn through lip service. Sometimes we have to experience the pain multiple times before we learn our dang lesson.
In this instance, the Lord will not take away my suffering because I need to learn. I must learn that Taco Bell is waging a chemical warfare against the American public, or at very least, my digestive track. I know this because every time I eat Taco Bell I call a funeral home and write goodbye letters. We all make mistakes, but God told me next time it will cost me my life. (Hyperbole.)
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against processed foods and mystery beans.
Fourscore and some odd years ago, an American decided to make a mockery of Mexican cuisine and started Diarrhea Palace. He later changed the name to Taco Bell, as he did not want his customers to know their fate.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we will be lured by the siren’s call of fast food, and that our next time at a drive thru will be our last.