It may be a cliche that all life's good stuff is either sinful or fattening. One more Twinkie or Goo-Goo Bar might not add to the ledger of things best left undone, but there are other seductive "Twinkies" and "Goo-Goo Bars" that will take a lot of sweating to pay for. For many of us the hour may be later than we would wish for getting God totally in charge of our lives. Mrs. Eddy tells us that we should attempt nothing without His help and that He should be permitted to guide our every thought and action. Maybe He could cut us a little slack and make it four or five out of seven?
Even our best intentions can find us driving from the back seat or conscientiously attempting to steady His uncertain hand on the steering wheel. The lives of many of us would be immeasurably more harmonious if we let Him do the directing and we do the following obediently, unhesitatingly, and humbly. He isn't just a co-pilot either. Either He is All and we are one with Him as His perfect reflection and idea or that is not the case. There is no Goldilocks "just right" middle ground, and fighting Him for the wheel will only lead to further misadventures.
If we decided to capture every thought we have during one day and present them to God for approval, what would the final tally be? If to avoid an overplus of embarrassment we whisked off the obvious clinkers to a closet, would we have a sobering rival to Fibber McGee's at day's end? We may know intellectually that the tiniest speck of error in thought or action can engender much to be repented of while we are at leisure, but still some of us order ourselves on like Admiral Farragut at Mobile Bay: "Damn the torpedoes! Captain Drayton, go ahead! Jouette, full speed!" He avoided them. We may not.
There is only room in our lives for one Chef, and His name is God, not Miss Piggy's immodest "moi". Getting totally and unequivocally right with God may take some doing, but it's got to be done if we are to put the lies of aggressive mental suggestion behind us forever.
Note: The possessive of one is obviously not ones, but one's. I'd go back and correct these goofs, but there are probably at least two or three hundred of them. "Fap!", as Major Hoople used to say.