I ask him if staying in shape has anything to do with the whole looks thing. “That’s even added to my struggle,” he says, “just trying to make sure that I ain’t losing focus. Trust me, most of my life my looks have not been part of no equation.”

Room service arrives shortly after with breakfast—a healthy combo of an all-whites omelet with grilled chicken and spinach, oatmeal with strawberries, orange juice, and a big plate of assorted fruits. Gotta maintain that six-pack.

“Bottom line is vanity got the best of me yesterday,” he says.

In between chunks of pineapple, Franklin says he’s had other “fights” over the years: a promiscuous lifestyle when he was younger, growing up in a church that taught bad theology, numerous bouts with fear, and a much-publicized pornography problem, among other struggles. He says God has helped him deal with each of these in due time; his part is just to let himself be pruned accordingly.

“God just keeps chipping off some stuff,” he says.

The Fight of My Life is an honest-to-God documentation of this molding process, one that Franklin continues to live on a daily basis. The album is as grand anything he’s done in the past, but it’s decidedly more eclectic and urban than his past repertoire. No expense is spared, from the use of a brilliant Kenny Loggins sample in the leadoff single to an understated horn section and lush strings in several songs. As is expected, his guests run the gamut, from brother-in-arms Da’ T.R.U.T.H. to a favorite of Franklin’s, gospel mainstay Rance Allen. And, of course, tobyMac.

“Kirk Franklin is the bridge to gospel music for the entire world,” says the former dc Talker. “He epitomizes the heart and soul and inspires everyone to embrace all that gospel music is.” Franklin reciprocates the props. “Toby and I…there’s something very kindred about him,” he says. “He’s so close to being black and I’m so close to being white that we just connect.”

The album is a tour de force—one of Franklin’s very best—but he admits it didn’t come easy. God just wasn’t dropping the songs. The word he chooses to describe the slower-than-normal creative process is one I don’t want to repeat over in my head too many times: “I was stuck because I was not pregnant with songs,” he says. “I can just tell when it’s time [for a new album] ‘cause God would impregnate me.”

As Marian as that may sound, it’s entirely conceivable, given Franklin’s tireless spirit and his no-holds-barred ingenuity. After much prayer, Franklin says God finally did his thing, and the songs began to pop out one by one.

Truth is, no one in Christian or mainstream music sounds anything like Franklin. He’s a true original, one of the world’s last multi-cultural, cross-generational champions. Youth love him. Their parents respect him. And even their grandparents like that he can get churchy when he wants to. But being a people pleaser is far from Franklin’s ultimate goal, even if his human side is hungry for it. “My flesh has always craved to be accepted,” he says, “and the limelight is just one form of acceptance.”

Ultimately, that’s the fight of Franklin’s life: to be conscious enough to realize his own depravity and acknowledge the battle is won whenever he gives up control. And if that means having to give up looking fly on the set of 106 & Park, so be it.

“God is so unconcerned about the stuff we’re concerned about,” he says. “God could give a flip about album sales. He could give a flip about promotions. He could give a flip about being on the cover of CCM. God’s greatest concern more than anything is conforming me into the image of His son. He wants me to look like Jesus in every capacity, and will cut at every piece of me that’s not like that until I end up being like that.”

When he's not cooking or reading The New York Times for fun, Andree Farias writes. Simultaneously, he's profusely in love with Stephanie, his stunning, Proverbs 31 girlfriend.