I love denim. If one pair of jeans is good, then 10 pairs is obviously better. I might own denim shirts in a variety of colors. If a girl could marry denim, this one already did. Tracking with me?

I used to think this obsession {let’s just call it what it is, friends} was contained to denim. Add to it, I had convinced myself that 1) it wasn’t actually a problem and 2) it was my hobby. Other people like to run and sew, but I liked to wear denim. Totally the same.
You know, sometimes it’s just plain good to call a spade a spade. Obsessions indicate extremes. Those aren’t always negative, but they usually elevate focused attention from a healthy place to an excessive one.

I’ve lived by this verse {and wielded it no less than a million times in parenting}: All things are permissible, but not all things are beneficial. Think about that. We have the freedom to do as we please–be it buy one too many pairs of jeans, drink one too many cocktails, cheat on our partner, exercise for hours every day, or hover over every move of our children.

The second part of the verse is what strikes me, and is something I ask myself often. Is this beneficial? Listen, sometimes it is. I follow that up with another reflective question: who benefits from this, or what is the specific benefit to my family, friends, community, etc.?

When I obsess about something, I lose focus. I forget to see anyone or anything, expect the object of my desire. Trouble with that is, I long to be a woman who contributes to the good of those around her. One that loves the marginalized, the sinner, and the saint. I identify with each of those descriptors, after all.

My love for denim is not the real problem. Justifying my extreme behavior is the issue. I don’t know what you tend to justify in your life, but maybe that second question is for you, too. Take it. Use it.

What could happen if we stopped justifying extreme behaviors as an individual, family, community, and nation?

#MomentofTruthMonday #ExtremeBehaviors #FirstCorinthiansTenTwentyThree #LiveaBetterStory