Think about the Garden of Eden, that pristine paradise where God placed Adam and Eve before sin threw its wrench into the divine machinery. Every tree bearing fruit was there for the taking, lush and abundant, dripping with natural sweetness. We’re talking figs, dates, pomegranates—fruits loaded with sugars and carbohydrates that would make today’s low-carb crusaders faint in horror. And yet, God surveyed His handiwork and called it good, not just tolerable or “okay in moderation,” but unequivocally good. No fine print about blood sugar spikes or insulin resistance. In that unfallen world, sugar flowed like rivers from the trees, a testament to Yahweh’s generous provision, designed to fuel humanity’s dominion over creation without a hint of backlash.

Eden wasn’t a vegan utopia or a keto nightmare; it was God’s blueprint for human flourishing. Genesis 1:29 lays it out plainly: “Then God said, ‘I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food.'” Fruits, with their inherent sugars, weren’t temptations lurking in the shadows; they were front and center, essential to the mandate of stewardship and enjoyment. Before the fall, bodies functioned in perfect harmony with creation; no diabetes lurking around the corner, no metabolic disorders to fret over. Adam and Eve metabolized those sweet bounties flawlessly, their physical forms obeying the Creator’s design without rebellion. To partake freely wasn’t gluttony; it was obedience, a joyful acknowledgment of dependence on the One who provides all things richly for our enjoyment, as 1 Timothy 6:17 reminds us.

Fast forward to our post-Eden reality, where the curse of sin has tainted everything, including how we view something as simple as an apple. The fall introduced thorns and thistles, toil and pain, and yes, vulnerabilities in our bodies that make natural sugars seem like enemies rather than allies. Satan also became the god of this earth and with his demons takes advantage of the curse and victimizes people with pain, sickness and diseases ( Acts 10:38). Sickness entered the picture not as God’s original intent but as a consequence of rebellion. Yet, here’s where defective theology creeps in—folks start blaming sugar itself, as if the fruit trees were booby traps set by a capricious deity. In our hyper-focused nutrition culture, even modest amounts—like figs with breakfast, an apple at lunch, a mango for dinner—get labeled “bad” because I had too many carbs and sugars. What God pronounced good, they call evil.

And what does the fall have to do with us today? Everything and nothing, depending on where you stand in Christ. Galatians 3:13 declares, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us.” If you’re in Him, that curse— including its grip on your health—has been shattered. Romans 8:11 drives it home: “And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.” Your body isn’t defined by the curse’s decay; it’s dominated by the Spirit’s life-giving power. The curse does not energize my mortal body with death; no, the Spirit energizes my mortal body with Jesus’ life. Grace reigns, not the remnants of Eden’s fallout. If your health still bows to dietary fears, perhaps you’ve missed the memo on redemption— you’re acting as if the cross was a partial fix, leaving you to fend off sugar with human willpower.

The Bible isn’t silent on moderation. We are not to be gluttons. Yet, Scripture celebrates sweetness as a divine gift. Psalm 19:10 likens God’s words to honey, sweeter than the honeycomb. Proverbs 24:13 advises, “Eat honey, my son, for it is good; honey from the comb is sweet to your taste.” Even in the wilderness, God fed Israel manna that tasted like wafers made with honey (Exodus 16:31)—a supernatural provision laced with sweetness, no health warnings attached. Jesus Himself multiplied loaves—carbohydrate central—and fish, feeding thousands without a lecture on glycemic indexes (John 6:1-14). If sugar were the villain some make it out to be, why didn’t the Master Healer warn against it?

This paranoia about sugar betrays a deeper issue: unbelief masquerading as wisdom. When we obsess over “Did I have too much fructose today?” we’re training our minds to start with sensory experiences and human efforts rather than God’s revelation and His power. It’s carnality in a health-food wrapper, no different from the man enslaved to lust or greed. Romans 8:6 warns, “The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace.” Constantly tweaking diets to avoid imagined threats fights against being spiritual; it’s epistemology rooted in the flesh, power drawn from self-discipline instead of faith. The Bible endorses supernatural health through God’s power, not your plate. Medicine? It doesn’t condemn it outright, but neither does it commend it for your health needs. If adjusting your intake helps you feel better, fine—the Scripture leaves room for that without judgment. But chasing nutrition, like a broken record playing in your mind? That’s sidelining the Healer for a salad.

This focus on nutrition isn’t just misguided—it’s a straight path to carnality, the very mindset Scripture warns against in Romans 8:5-8, where those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, leading to death and enmity with God. When you obsess over macros, glycemic loads, or whether that banana will spike your insulin, you’re starting your epistemology with sensory data—how the body feels, what the scale says, or what the latest study claims—rather than with God’s self-authenticating Word as the first principle. It’s human speculation dressed in lab coats, inductive guessing that pretends to be wisdom but is anti-logic at its core. Deduction from Scripture demands we begin with God’s promises: healing by His stripes, life-giving Spirit in our mortal bodies, abundance without fear. But nutrition paranoia flips the script, making your gut the god and your willpower your savior. No wonder it breeds anxiety; it’s flesh-dependent, not faith-dependent.

Worse, this carnal lens trains you for human effort over supernatural provision, turning health into a self-made idol rather than a received gift. Day in, day out, scanning labels and portioning plates becomes your ritual, a subtle works-righteousness that sidelines prayer, faith confession, and commanding sickness to flee in Jesus’ name. God’s provision is miraculous—manna from heaven, water from rock, multiplied loaves with carbs galore—yet you opt for the sweat of your brow, post-fall style. Faith says, “Speak to the mountain of diabetes and it moves”; carnality says, “Track your carbs or perish.” One unleashes God’s power; the other exhausts you in futility. And let’s be real—if you’re more tuned to your Fitbit than the Spirit’s whisper, you’ve already lost the battle before it starts.

Consider the bleeding woman in Mark 5:25-34. She spent everything on physicians, only to worsen under their care. Human efforts failed spectacularly. Then, with a touch of faith, she tapped into Jesus’ power and was healed instantly. No dietary overhaul required. Or King Asa in 2 Chronicles 16:12, who sought doctors alone for his diseased feet and died—his fault wasn’t medicine per se, but excluding God from the equation. Contrast that with the centurion’s faith in Matthew 8:5-13: “Just say the word, and my servant will be healed.” No questions about the servant’s carb intake; faith unleashed the miracle. In our redemption, we’re called to this level—commanding health by faith, not cowering before calories.

Labeling sugar “bad” even in Eden’s context dishonors the Creator. Those fruit trees weren’t accidents; they were intentional, reflecting God’s goodness. To fear them now is to limit the Holy One of Israel, as Psalm 78:41 describes the Israelites who grumbled despite manna from heaven. They confessed lack amid abundance; we do the same when we treat God’s provisions with suspicion. Post-fall, yes, bodies can rebel—diabetes is real, a symptom of the curse. But Jesus was already a  curse for us. Isaiah 53:4-5 proclaims, “Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering… by his wounds we are healed.” Jesus bore the curse, including its physical tolls, so we could reclaim Eden’s freedom. Not a literal return to the garden, but a spiritual one where faith makes all things possible, even a fantastic metabolism (Mark 9:23). This is why Moses was full of vigor to the last of his days. The curse, because he was under Abraham’s gospel in faith, held no sway over his body. The curse was afraid of Moses. The curse is afraid of the man who has faith in God.

Tradition peddles a gospel of moderation laced with fear—eat this, avoid that, or else. But Jesus offers abundance: “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). Full life includes enjoying creation without paranoia. Sure, gluttony tests God (Matthew 4:7), but so does unbelief that hoards health through human schemes. The reprobate theologians—those faith-fumblers who dilute the promises—would have you limping through life, confessing weakness instead of victory. They slap “God’s will” on sickness, forgetting that healing glorifies Him, as in John 9:3 where the blind man’s restoration displayed God’s work, not his affliction.

So, what’s the takeaway? Embrace the sugar flowing in Eden as a shadow of God’s goodness, redeemed in Christ. Don’t idolize diets or demonize delights; let faith govern your health. If a mango calls your name, enjoy it with gratitude, trusting the Spirit for vitality. And if sickness knocks, resist it like Satan himself—command it gone in Jesus’ name. After all, in this divine setup, you’re not the victim of carbs; you’re the victor through faith. Unbelief might leave you counting calories till kingdom come, but faith? It moves mountains—and maybe sweetens your tea while at it.

In conclusion, Eden’s sweetness wasn’t a setup for failure but a reality of God’s provision. The curse twisted it, Satan takes advantage of it, but redemption restores. Today we have faith over fear, Spirit over spreadsheets. God’s not stingy with His gifts; why should we be suspicious. If we are trained, not by carnal starting points, but faith in God’s promises, then the curse will fear us. Diabetes will tremble in fear before a man with faith, as loudly as demons scream in fear before the man who wields Jesus’ name.

Confess with me. “I have been redeemed from the curse, because Jesus already took the curse away from me. He has already given me the gospel of Abraham’s excessive blessings, excessive increase and the abundance of the Spirit and miracles. The sugar God called good is still good for me today. When I eat sugar it nourishes my body, makes my blood healthy, makes my bones limber and strengthens my flesh. Sugar is not bad for me, it does not create diseases and health issues for me; rather, sugar makes me healthier. In Jesus Name.”