The classic paper vs. pita debate...
This week of spring break has truly been a break. And I love that spring break is always Holy Week. It, most of the time, gives me a chance to move slower through Christ's last week. On Tuesday a friend and I took her precious daughter over to one of our favorite pizza places. As we chatted about the Supreme Court, I made faces at the baby, and we devoured delicious food, the baby chomped on some pita bread. After we had finished eating, we were sitting around. The baby girl is in the stage in which she grabs whatever is around. She grabbed a paper napkin and did what all babies do--she tried to eat it. As my friend and I laughed about it, my friend made a good point. "It can't taste good. You would think she would stop doing that." I thought, "Yeah! I know." I then told my friend one of my favorite stories from picking strawberries last year. A mom had brought her 18-month-old son to the berry patch. This always seems like a good idea, but I'm not so sure...As the mom was picking berries, the little boy was taking in his surroundings...by eating them. As I picked berries, out of the corner of my eye I would see this little guy eat a pretty berry and then stick an almost rotten one in his mouth and then indiscriminately try to eat a leaf or some dirt. As the mom freaked out and yelled, "No! Don't eat that!" to him, I kept thinking that Darwin would predict that we would naturally not want to eat dirt when there are berries around. I mean, they're strawberries. What's not to love? Why would you eat anything other than strawberries if they are around? That's like someone filling up on Brussels sprouts when my mom has made my grandmother's Thanksgiving dressing. What are you thinking? So as sweet baby girl kept trying to get her napkin fix, I kept thinking, "Why eat that when there is pita around?"
As I was thinking yesterday, I found myself not that different from the little ones who choose to eat napkins or leaves or dirt or dog food. As I read over the list of the fruit of the spirit and then look at what I settle for, I think, "Napkin-eater, what are you doing?" God's promise of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self control and faithfulness is such a beautiful vision of life. Why would I settle for jealousy, conflict, insecurity, anxiety, selfishness and all the other motives that come to the surface when I spend my time planning a life I think will finally make me happy instead of resting in His grace? As Paul says, "They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator--who is forever praised. Amen." His promise is that as I strive to be more like Christ and work to make His kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven, He will provide for me from His abundant resources. So much more like a strawberry than dirt.
But so often I eat the dirt while the strawberries sit untouched. And every time I do it, I feel just like someone who has filled up on something other than food. I feel unsettled, discontent, and frustrated. As I put on the new outfit or check off the most recently achieved goal or savor the praise of another person, I find myself unsatisfied. But maybe, much like a baby with little experience, I don't have refined enough taste. Maybe I've been eating the junk for so long, that it seems normal. Or maybe I haven't feasted enough on the good stuff to find the rest of it unsatisfying. As CS Lewis says, “It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” I'll settle for the napkin, because much like my sweet baby friend, I am too new to the table to be picky...and picky is exactly what I should be.
My roomie and I often come home from our berry picking adventures and eat to our hearts' content. As these sun-ripened fruits remind us why we love summer, we often say that these fresh berries make the ones at the store seem like fake food. We crave the good stuff because we've tasted it. The weaker substitutes won't do. Much like the verse in Psalms that encourages us to "taste and see that the Lord is good"--I know what fruit should taste like. I know that amazing moment of a berry that must be eaten on the spot because it is so ripe it won't be good tomorrow. Maybe that's the trick. We have to experience the good stuff in order to know the difference. And we have to taste it often enough that we don't forget.
So on Good Friday, as I think about the cost of my bad eating habits, I am reminded that, unlike baby girl who will soon learn to be picky my choices are more than preferences. They're a corruption of the way God created me to view the world. And as I think about my Lord hanging on the cross today, of His death despite His innocence, I am reminded that the call to long for holy things over trivial things is more than a recommendation--it is a choice given to me at great cost. May I today, and every day, choose to feast on God's banquet of love, grace, and holiness so that the mud pies, napkins, and created things will be revealed for what they are--poor substitutes.
As I was thinking yesterday, I found myself not that different from the little ones who choose to eat napkins or leaves or dirt or dog food. As I read over the list of the fruit of the spirit and then look at what I settle for, I think, "Napkin-eater, what are you doing?" God's promise of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self control and faithfulness is such a beautiful vision of life. Why would I settle for jealousy, conflict, insecurity, anxiety, selfishness and all the other motives that come to the surface when I spend my time planning a life I think will finally make me happy instead of resting in His grace? As Paul says, "They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator--who is forever praised. Amen." His promise is that as I strive to be more like Christ and work to make His kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven, He will provide for me from His abundant resources. So much more like a strawberry than dirt.
But so often I eat the dirt while the strawberries sit untouched. And every time I do it, I feel just like someone who has filled up on something other than food. I feel unsettled, discontent, and frustrated. As I put on the new outfit or check off the most recently achieved goal or savor the praise of another person, I find myself unsatisfied. But maybe, much like a baby with little experience, I don't have refined enough taste. Maybe I've been eating the junk for so long, that it seems normal. Or maybe I haven't feasted enough on the good stuff to find the rest of it unsatisfying. As CS Lewis says, “It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” I'll settle for the napkin, because much like my sweet baby friend, I am too new to the table to be picky...and picky is exactly what I should be.
My roomie and I often come home from our berry picking adventures and eat to our hearts' content. As these sun-ripened fruits remind us why we love summer, we often say that these fresh berries make the ones at the store seem like fake food. We crave the good stuff because we've tasted it. The weaker substitutes won't do. Much like the verse in Psalms that encourages us to "taste and see that the Lord is good"--I know what fruit should taste like. I know that amazing moment of a berry that must be eaten on the spot because it is so ripe it won't be good tomorrow. Maybe that's the trick. We have to experience the good stuff in order to know the difference. And we have to taste it often enough that we don't forget.
So on Good Friday, as I think about the cost of my bad eating habits, I am reminded that, unlike baby girl who will soon learn to be picky my choices are more than preferences. They're a corruption of the way God created me to view the world. And as I think about my Lord hanging on the cross today, of His death despite His innocence, I am reminded that the call to long for holy things over trivial things is more than a recommendation--it is a choice given to me at great cost. May I today, and every day, choose to feast on God's banquet of love, grace, and holiness so that the mud pies, napkins, and created things will be revealed for what they are--poor substitutes.
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