The Good Bad Food

I was in a bible study the other day. I was thinking about food but that wasn't what the study was about. I don't do well sitting and listening. My eyes were looking and my ears were listening but I wasn't hearing. Have you ever been in a meeting and you realize you've not heard much in the last 10 minutes? Imagine having that realization 5 times an hour. Now your listening in my shoes. Besides, I was thinking about food and since I'd skipped breakfast....

Quick, favorite food? I know, lots to choose from but what would you choose if it was your last meal? I mean you gotta go dessert, right? Sure, eat the meal but the last thing that goes down before you check out is the dessert. Mine is pound cake. Batter. I was a kid once and one of the glorious privileges of childhood is licking the beaters after your mom makes a cake. Awesome. The bowl was ok but mom usually scraped it pretty good so there wasn't much left. I always wanted to do the mixing so I could stop the mixer while the beaters were still buried deep in the batter. Then slowly pull them out as to not let much drip off. Glorious! The nightmare of course is when you get there too late and the beaters are out and she's SCRAPING THEM WITH THE SPATULA!!! Why do mom's DO that??? Torture. I've learned something as an adult. If I make pound cake, I don't have to stop at licking the beaters. It's MY cake and I can eat right out of the bowl!! And I do! I've actually eaten almost the whole bowl. Lot's of times. We all need a hobby. That's a cup of butter, half cup Crisco, 3 cups sugar, 3 cups flour, 5 eggs and a cup of milk. And a quart of milk to wash it down with. That's living.

The food I hate the most though was what I was thinking about during the bible study. The study was on faith. She asked the question " on a scale of 1-10 where do you rate your faith level?" Hummm. Depends on whether you want me to actually USE it or not. If you mean faith to believe in God and that He loves me then it's a 9 or 10. It's kind of like the faith I have in my truck. I know it's there and it'll turn on and go. I hardly think about it. Maybe we're all kinda like that. But you put me in another kind of vehicle, say a carnival roller coaster and maybe I think more about its trustworthiness. Especially as I look at the toothless grin of the Deliverance reject who put the thing together. I still get on though, despite the tinge of fear. How 'bout a rocket car? Pictures of Steve Austin tumbling down the runway fill my mind. Pass, too scary. I'll just drive my truck. I can control that. No faith needed.

Mustard. That's the food I hate the most. I know, I know, mustard's not technically a "food" but the Reagan Administration said ketchup was so there we go. I hate the smell. I hate the look. I hate hate hate the taste. I can't even touch the bottle. If you want it passed at the table I'll push it toward you with a stick. Then burn the stick. Wont eat things that MIGHT have it in it. Check your BBQ sauces. Those sneaky son of a guns sometimes slip it in there.(The "son of a guns" refer to the International Mustard Cartel. Part of the Taliban.) I once threw a rubber snake on a dear woman who hates snakes. She screamed, jumped around in terror and cried like a baby. I still feel bad. My brother threw mustard on me and I reacted the same way. Then I beat the crap out of him. He's still not sorry.

The only mustard I want to be associated with is the mustard seed. You know, the faith kind. I want to have it. Not only to just have it but to use it. I don't know, do you really have it if you don't use it? Is it kind of like having a wad of cash in a mason jar? If it's just in the jar it's just a wad of paper, of no value until you use it. And what if I miss my opportunity to use it? What if my long coveted gas grill is on sale at half price today and I know I should buy but I hesitate and look at my jar of money and POOF the grill's not on sale anymore. I eventually buy a grill,not the one I wanted, and people have missed out on my exquisite grilling skills (it's a nice dream so don't mess it up) all because I was what? Afraid? Not wanting to look the fool? Waiting for the voice from Heaven saying "Buy you dummy, there'll never be a better price". Probably lots of reasons. I just know, more often than not, I don't spend the faith. Because I don't have it? Haven't figured that one out.

So here's my feeble mustard seed prayer: " You are trust worthy. I know You are 'cause You said so but to be honest sometimes You don't seem to pay attention. How many times do I hear of people begging You for something, they've got their heads bowed, teeth gritted and quoting scripture and nothing happens and they crash in flames. Your fault? I don't know. You said it rains on the just and unjust. Maybe that's just life in a fallen world. But You ARE faithful. I have to believe You care. I have to believe You tell me stuff I can rely on and be confident that if I do it You'll hold up your end of the deal. I'm so sorry I'm weak and am so concerned with my image instead of yours. Hey, can we do this? Would You to tell me something tomorrow I can do for You. My hope and intent is that I'll be a man of mustard seed faith and change maybe just a little part of my world. Plant that seed and make it grow.I so want to be a man who pleases You and looks like You as I walk around. Please forgive me when I whine and complain as You do this. I know I asked for it. And You do it so well. Thanks Dad. I love you."

Sounds good, doesn't it? Well, I'll let you know....

bloody nose

"Maybe Ricky will have his blue cats eye marble today. If I can get my shot just right, use the new technique the way he does, it'll be mine". I loved playing marbles. I'm not even sure there were any rules: just draw a circle in the dirt, pile in a handful of marbles and commence to shooting them out. I was ok but Ricky was the champ and he had this cats eye marble that I wanted so bad. Maybe today's the day...."PLINK"!! That was the sound I heard and then "THWAP", my arm jerked backward and then all the kids were surrounding me hugging and giving high 5's. I had caught the softball for the final out and I was the hero. Only I didn't quite know what was going on. I had been playing marbles. In my mind. I had been daydreaming about marbles and barely knew I was standing on 3rd base. It was only by luck that I had been holding my glove open on top of my head and luck that the ball flew right into my glove and stayed there. I,as typical, was clueless.

What do you say to a brother or sister who knows the truth but it doesn't seem to work for them? I've been there. Beset with sin and crying out for God to save me, deliver me, but get nothing from the heavens. Or experiencing the aloneness of a dark universe when I'm going through a tribulation that no one has ever experienced.Or so it seems. Then I look at others living the victorious Christian life, conquering all the fiery arrows of hell and smiling all the while, and I'm thinking "I hate Baptists". Well, not really. I am one. Sorta. It seems so hollow to say "I'll pray for you" when they've lost their job, their spouse has left or their house burned down. But I do and I'm sure they appreciate it but back in the recesses of their mind it feels like "what good will prayer do?". I've felt that way. I've felt like God's not real. Or He doesn't really care. I have felt like just walking away. So what do you do with someone like this?

It's amazing what a shot in the arm it is when you get praise heaped upon you for doing something. I came home from the softball game feeling like I was Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle and Joe DiMaggio all rolled into one. I came home and told my family what had happened on the field of play that day (the daydreaming part can remain between you and me) and insisted that my dad come out after supper and play catch. We did this for quite a few days and then one day as the ball was thrown I stuck out my glove and..... Ever see a tennis player swing at a ball and miss and then they look at their racket and pick at the strings as if they're "moving" the strings back to cover the huge hole the ball must have gone through? Couldn't be that they just missed could it? I looked at my glove, looking for the huge hole the ball must have come through. The ball that was now laying on the ground under my nose which was now bleeding copious amounts of blood. I didn't play much ball after that.....

I think I want to start a prayer meeting with some friends. Maybe a Tuesday or Wednesday morning. I love so many of the people in my life and want to be a part of their lives. I want to rejoice with them. I want to cry with them. To walk with them. I want to be a friend. My life is so busy though. I've found I'm very selfish with my time and realize my life is about me mostly and that's so sad and I'm ashamed. I want to call people, to talk and let them know I care. I want to. But I don't. I have reasons. I have a hard time thinking of things to talk about. I have a bad memory and forget things about people so when I talk sometimes there these painful dead spots in the conversation while I'm trying to dredge things up in my brain. Of course there is the ever present television to occupy my time. Or the computer (never thought I'd say that). Just excuses.

3rd base is my place in life. I guess we all have a position to play and it's important to be there. Sometimes life comes at us and we make the catch - even if we aren't paying attention. Sometimes we get a bloody nose. You can't walk away or give up, like I've done so many times. Or let your team mate take his ball and go home. We ARE a team. I like what the writer of Hebrews says:" See to it brothers that none of you has an unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God. But encourage one another daily as long as it's called today, so that none of you may be hardened by sins deceitfulness". So well said. Mostly I don't think I play 3rd base well but I'll get up each day and take my place and ,good or bad, at least my DAD will know I'm trying....