I've had too much intake of Sadducee bread.
Their lies ("It'll never work") got to my head.
Their "no resurrection" speech gave me no hope.
Like Pharaoh's chief baker, I hang by a rope.
My stomach's been churning all up in a knot.
My insides are burning, I'm put on the spot.
This dough of food worry is packing on pounds.
I see my poor waistline is bursting its bounds.
My Pharisee friends all disparage my plight.
"You must burn those bulges of gross cellulite!
A strict no-frills diet is just what you need
To counter the lust of your gluttonous greed.
First off, no more butter or coconut oil;
Both sats and unsats will a great figure spoil.
Fried foods are all out, no more fishes and chips.
Grease is your worst enemy; see how it drips?
You must cut out candy and everything sweet.
The way to lose inches is, watch what you eat.
Replace all the fun with our down-to-earth fiber,
A wonderful I-can-wear-lean-jeans reviver.
Extracted from bark of a Size Zero tree,
Like a broom it'll sweep clear your gut, make you free
From all excess calories, loaded with gas
To purge your "splurge" urge and reduce that thick mass
Keeping you from belly from letting you fly.
We order you, dear, give this diet a try!
Oh yes, and one more thing: we're not finding fault,
But true bliss rewards those who rarely use salt.
Plus, skinniness thrives on a twice-a-week fast.
It's a pure self denial, get-thin-quick repast
To feed your gaunt ego. You'll have such a blast.
Just stick to our rules, your weight loss will last."
And that's how they think to expunge the lust devil
Who's causing me all of this heartache and trouble.
I figure they're right and I give it my best,
But all that I get for results is distress.
Their sayings, though hearty, impart no release.
Unable to keep them, I soon wax obese.
Like Job's tasteless egg whites to which I'm averse,
Their nonbearing fig tree has brought Jesus' curse.
This knowledge of evil and good is a chain,
A yoke full of suffering, riddled with pain.
I shudder to think how from God's grace I've fallen,
Severed by gluten of law from His calling.
I must rid myself of tradition's old leaven
And reconnect with the vine reigning from heaven.
To dine on His presence is healing to me,
No fats need I fear, for He serves liberty.
His spirit of praise lifts the heaviness off,
Although its light taste makes religious folk scoff.
This bread is called 'manna,' implying "What is it?"
Well, if you would taste it, then come for a visit.
Receive of the bread, boldly take up the cup.
Every day drink it in; every day on Him sup.
The manna is His body given for you.
He is all that you need. Manna to the rescue!
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