The taste that strikes me the most these past two days is ice cream. Rich, creamy ice cream. Well, actually, not so rich and creamy. Fat free. And no-sugar added, too. Not much like real ice cream after all. While eating it -- the diabetic's attempt at dessert -- I was reminded of a Young Friends gathering at our home in Muncie. It was shortly after I had been diagnosed as a diabetic and was still pining for the real stuff -- but had almost forgotten what it tasted like.I was in charge of scooping the ice cream into cones and dishes -- good job for me, I guess, since I wouldn't be tempted to skimp on servings in order to hold back ice cream for myself. When the last of the kids and their leaders was served, I gathered up my scoops and headed back indoors. On the way, the one of the scoops started to drip, so I reached my tongue out to catch the drip before it hit the carpet. And was reawakened to just how good real ice cream tasted. It was sooooo gooood.
As I remembered that tonight, I began thinking of the almost real taste of the "ice cream" I eat. A pale imitation. And it set me to wondering how often I settled for a pale imitation in my spiritual life, too. A "lite" portion of God, thank you very much, will suit me just fine -- or will it? Not really. My soul hungers for a taste of the real -- but I get caught up in the business of life and settle for less.
Of course, bodily-speaking, real ice cream could do me in, sending my blood sugar into orbit. And, perhaps, real spirituality would do the same for soul -- but I think it's time to take that chance.
-- Brent
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