It Tastes Like Grass With Vinegar On It

For an extended period of time, I ministered to a seniors assisted living community not far from where we live.  Each Thursday morning I drove in, read the morning newspaper aloud in the community room, led some chairside exercises, then directed a choir that was later to travel from church to church presenting their unique style of musical praise.  Every week the residents and participants of the choir would invite me to stay for lunch at the facility.  It was a gesture of love and an expression of their desire to give back a little something for the hours I spent with them.  I wouldn't have refused, even if you paid me.  For those of you who may not have any real experience with "retirement homes," let me say clearly that the food served is prepared with the particular concerns of the digestive and nutritional needs of the elderly.  It is not restaurant-quality fare, for the most part.  As is most often the case, funds are limited and the institution's cook(s) do the best with what they are given.  Here in the South that means the standard vegetable dish consists of some form of greens... mustard greens, turnip greens, spinach, and the like.  I can state unequivocally that I do not like greens.  I consider eating them the privilege of livestock, not humans.  Each week I would politely slide my little white dish of greens aside and do my best to clean the rest of my plate while listening to conversations ranging from bowel impactions to Harriet's latest struggle with carbuncles.  In an assisted living home, no topic is off limits.  Not even at the dinner table.

One day a dear lady commented on the fact that I never seemed to eat my greens and how good they were for me.  I politely replied, "I'm sorry.  I just don't eat grass."  That comment was good for a hearty round of laughs at the table.  (It would seem that in the senior arena I'm a regular Fatty Arbuckle.)  When the laughter died down, that lady politely said, "Darlin', that's just because you don't know how to eat them.  Here now, give me your dish and I'll fix them up for you."  She took the slimy, green concoction and ever so diligently sprinkled the vinegar provided at the table over the top of them.  Pushing them back in my direction, she proudly proclaimed, "Now try those.  See what you think of 'em now."  Because I was raised to be polite and respect my elders (as were most of us baby boomers), I took a small forkful and raised them begrudgingly to my mouth, forced them inside, bit down once, and promptly rinsed them down with about eight ounces of sweet tea (another southern staple).  With a grin of anticipation, that dear lady queried, "Well, honey, what do you think now?"  My reply:  "They taste like grass with vinegar on it."  The uproarious laughter afforded me plenty of time to quickly scoot the dish aside and cover it with my linen napkin.  (I suspect that the facility could probably afford to serve gourmet dishes if they didn't spend so much money laundering linen napkins, but that's just a guess on my part.)

That experience brings to mind the issue of sin in our lives.  (I can't help it.  My mind just works in strange ways.)  We daily serve up sin to those around us whether they want a helping or not.  We even seek to make our sins more palatable to others by dressing them up in finery, sprinkling them with concoctions meant to dilute their bitter taste, declaring all the while that sin is really not all that bad.  Believe it or not, there are people who actually work at developing a taste for certain sins.  They may be repulsed by them at first, but over time they learn to spice them up a bit and gain a certain level of appreciation for them.

I distinctly remember the first time someone offered me a cigarette.  Remarkably, it was in the lunch room at the hospital where I worked, during an afternoon break time.  That was long before we understood all the health ramifications that smoking would present.  Everyone was enjoying their long, leisurely drags on those slender white sticks, so naturally I thought it was the only acceptable thing for me to do.  I put that lit cigarette to my lips and took three or four hearty puffs, inhaling the smoke carefully into my lungs (for fear that I might start coughing and choking, thus giving away my inexperience with the things).  Then I promptly excused myself, exited the room, and went directly to the ladies restroom where I threw up.  (For those of you who may doubt my past medical experience, the correct word for vomit is emesis... so there.)  No one but me knew what had happened.  The following day, I was given a second opportunity to enter the elite crowd of smokers in the break room.  It ended the same way, with a hasty retreat to the ladies' room.  The third day of this routine brought a great revelation to me:  Anything that makes me throw up every time I do it cannot be all that good for me!  Thus, I have never struggled with nicotine addiction.

Down through the years as I have shared that story, many people who were lifelong smokers have said to me, "Well, I threw up, too.  That didn't stop me, though.  I wanted to smoke, so I just kept trying until it didn't make me sick anymore."  Hm-m-m.  I've never fully understood why someone would take that route until I began to take a closer look at some of my own choices in life.  How many times have I pushed myself back from the Thanksgiving table moaning, "Oh my word!  I'm so full I feel sick.  That was great!!"  How often have I told myself, "This little white lie won't turn into anything bigger."  How frequently have I stared in disbelief at an out-of-control credit card bill and thought, "Well, I already owe so much it won't really matter if I add another fifty bucks or so to this."

Sin is sin.  It tastes bitter in the mouth of the believer.  The Holy Spirit plans it that way.  When we belong to Jesus Christ we no longer desire the tastes of the world and all it has to offer, but oh how often we try to season the flavor and make sin palatable so we can comfortably fit in with those around us.  There is nothing to be gained and everything to be lost when we yield to sin and temptation, but praise God we have the power to deny sin in our lives.  It is given to us through the Holy Spirit, and when we see sin approaching, we can call on Him for strength and speedy feet to carry us in the opposite direction.  Lord, let us never develop a taste for sin.  May it always taste like grass with vinegar on it.

"Incline my heart not to submit or consent to any evil thing or to be occupied in deeds of wickedness with men who work iniquity; and let me not eat of their dainties."  (Psalm 141:4)