Anyone seen the quirky musical comedy Little Shop of Horrors? It features a rather insecure character, Seymour Krelborn. While he’s the hired help for an overbearing flower shop-keeper, he also nurses a tremendous crush on his co-worker “Audrey” (a crush that he has minimal courage to do anything about).When he isn’t longing after Audrey, Seymour cares for a mysterious little plant that he affectionately names “Two-ee” (short for Audrey II). The plant has a surprising and unusual appetite. Every time “Two-ee” is fed he gets bigger and bigger until he’s huge! One day Seymour actually hears an audible voice saying “Feed me.” The voice is rich and deep - sometimes like velvet and yet grovely too. It’s a combination of Barry White’s kind of smooth and Little Ritchie’s bit of spunk. At first the voice only pleads with Seymour saying “feed me Seymour, feed me all night long”. As Two-ee begins to sing for his supper, he gets more and more demanding. The plant promises Seymour a more fulfilling and extravagant life – and the girl but only if Seymour continues to feed him.

“…cause if you feed me Seymour, I can grow big and strong!

Would you like to be a big wheel? Dinin’ out for every meal?

I’m the plant that can make it all real

You gonna git it!

I’m your genie I’m your friend,

I’m your willing slave,

Take a chance, just feed me…”

At times I think of that voice – no, in fact I hear it! I think I’m Seymour, and that voice? It belongs to the piece of me that wants, more! Don’t get me wrong I love the sound of Barry White’s voice – its so convincing and I do want to please him, and, and, and… its never enough. “Feeding” the want never really meets the hunger pains and never quite delivers on that promise of a more fulfilling existence.

I’ve spent some time considering my various leanings towards indulgence. I know that I am a chronic ‘sneak-a-treater’. A quick looky-loo over the Haag n’ Daaz package confirms that sure enough, there’s not one stipulation indicating that the bottom of the container must be licked clean. And, despite my feigned helplessness in the situation, “Oh Henry” bars are not animated and therefore do not place themselves in the grocery cart! Banishing self control to the produce aisle, I forget that tasty things, yummy things – beautiful things are indeed, just things! Although, last week I’m pretty sure the “feed me” voice pointed out a pair of black leather shoes to me … saying something like “ohhh, but you would feel so much more confident in these babies.Taller too!” Knees buckling here…Oh talk to me Barry.

So what’s the problem then? I’m not breaking the law, I don’t think. I’m not breaking a commandment (although there are certainly some grey areas aren’t there?). My next thought is that my want to indulge often comes from a broken place. The broken place is where that familiar “feed me” voice echoes the loudest. In the broken place I am convinced that I am unseen by God and others. In the broken place I feel angry at being overlooked. In the broken place I feel small. In the broken place I don’t trust other’s love and respect for me. In the broken place I am terrified that I am not enough. In the broken place my life feels so incidental and ineffectual. In my effort to avoid all these ugly hurtful feelings, I choose to go for the “feel good.” So, I indulge in what makes me feel better – things that temporarily refit the “broken place” but actually prolong my stay there.

Sometimes I like my indulgence with a big helping of self entitlement – I top it off with a dollop of indignation, and serve it up on a big plate of “SO WHAT!” This is especially true when I find myself wading around in the stinky lagoon of bad moods…when nothing feels better then to “lay it on ’em”(whoever that might be) ‘cause my mood is just that fowl; or it’s incessant self-pity about what’s missing from my life. It’s a total disregard for what’s reasonable or fair for others to shoulder.

Clarity questions how much I’m willing to pay for the pursuit of comfort, affirmation, acknowledgement, praise, distraction, justification, retribution and anything else that might satisfy the agonizing hunger. Maybe I’m not paying for these pursuits at all. Maybe I sacrifice other’s needs and wants to feed the want. And yet I know selfishness removes humility as it positions itself contrary to God’s command to “love others” and “seek first the kingdom of God.” And what of God? Well, His version of truth is then not invited to heal in “the broken place.”

As an adult, self regulation and self control are a bit tricky. Not only are we in charge of ourselves, but we are also outfitted with a dazzling power to reason away any and all of our extravagances. However, over-indulgence continues to battle contentment, resulting in nothing ever being enough. Self entitlement spars with thankfulness, as it argues “no need to be thankful for something I deserve anyways.” The lack of self discipline surrenders an inordinate amount of power to inanimate objects and fickle cravings. It relies on something other than God to fix “the broken place.”

What do I do Lord? What do I do? The “feed me” voice is so loud now – it tells me things I want so desperately to believe. What is broken in me, may I surrender it to You. Where I find delight and pleasures, may I always find myself thankful and humbled by Your goodness. Accept my honesty in the form of my own small, fragile voice asking you to “Feed me Father.”