Pie vs. Protein: A Post-Thanksgiving Struggle

Some people wrestle with deep theological questions. Others wrestle with moral dilemmas. Me? I wrestle with pie — especially the week after Thanksgiving. And lately, protein keeps pinning it down like Jacob at the Jabbok (Genesis 32:22–32).

Thanksgiving is basically a national holiday devoted to testing your sanctification. My kitchen the day after looked like a carbohydrate crime scene. Pie was whispering, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden… and I will give you sugar.” Protein, meanwhile, stood in the corner doing its best impression of a gym bro muttering, “Ground turkey. Again.”

It wasn’t a fair fight. Pie had nostalgia, flaky crusts, and whipped cream on its side. Protein had… chalky shakes and a never-ending supply of ground turkey. If life were a post-Thanksgiving potluck, pie would be the first thing to disappear. Protein would still be sitting on the counter next to the veggie tray, wondering why it even got invited.

Workouts with Ike often turn into theology class — his idea, not mine. He’ll ask me deep biblical questions right when I’m sweating like a pig (which, by the way, is an unclean animal), and I do my best to answer between gasps for air. One day he asked me what I thought about Jacob wrestling with God at the Jabbok. It turned into a whole discussion. At least I think it did — I barely remember it because I was wrestling with leg lifts at the same time. Jacob may have walked away with a limp, but I walked away wondering if my legs were still attached.

But here’s the thing: when Jacob wrestled at the Jabbok, he didn’t walk away the same. He left with both a limp and a blessing. That’s usually how discipline works. It doesn’t leave you unscathed — sore muscles, sore pride, sore abs — but it leaves you stronger and shaped by God’s hand.

Fatherhood feels the same way. Every day is a choice: pie or protein. Comfort or discipline. Temporary pleasure or long-term hopefulness. The easy road fills you for a moment; the hard road fuels you for the journey.

And since full transparency is important: yes, I ate a piece of pie this year. But — and this is character development — I did not eat the whole pie. Old Mike would’ve considered that “cleaning up leftovers.” New Mike is learning boundaries. Discipline doesn’t always look heroic; sometimes it looks like closing the fridge and walking away before you start negotiating with dessert like it’s a hostage situation.

Paul said it like this: “Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable” (1 Corinthians 9:25). Abs or no abs, my boys don’t need a dad who gives in to every craving — they need one who models what self-control looks like, even when the pie is winning the argument.

So no, I’m not breaking up with pie completely. It still gets visitation rights on special occasions. But I’m learning that protein is the training partner I need for Father Figure 2.0. And who knows — maybe pie and protein will eventually learn to get along at the same table.

Father Figure 2.0: Built on discipline. Powered by pie… in moderation.

If you’ve got your own pie-vs-protein story, drop it in the comments. Misery loves company… especially when the company brings pie.