"Don't get a pastrami sandwich," he says.
Immediately I start thinking about how I can get a pastrami sandwich.
I can't remember ever eating pastrami. But he told me not to have it and I wanted to stop anyway.
Kind of like in Romans. I had to laugh at myself for wanting to race out and eat a sandwich just for being told not to. At BJ I tried to walk on the grass every day just because they told me not to. I didn't know that grace was the opposite of that particular strain of fundamental legalism, not rebellion.
Following the law wasn't going to get me to God. I stepped on the grass regularly in an immature attempt to "stick it to them;" they might be controlling everything in my life, but I was getting them back by walking on the grass. When I began to try to live up to the externally observable law-keeping of being a BoJo, I realized I was never going to be good enough. Striving to keep the law made me feel inadequate, weak, and guilty.
But grace . . . grace says the price is paid. Grace says you are hopelessly inadequate, futilely weak, and indefensibly guilty, but God loves you anyway. So don't walk on the grass not because not walking on the grass is going to make you any holier, but because sin doesn't have dominion over you. You live under grace. You don't have to walk on the grass to prove anything.
And as for Tony . . . does he have to mention food so much in the workouts?