Ahhh, Asiago!

I love asiago cheese, and I’m fond of the occasional bagel. Putting the two in combination was something I’d never considered until a bagger friend at the grocery store one morning was pondering his food options for his upcoming break and suddenly said, “That’s it! I’ll have an asiago cheese bagel!”

Noting the blank stares on those of us working around him, he said, “Haven’t you ever tried one of those?! They’re incredible! The saltiness of the cheese is just the perfect complement to the bread of the bagel. Once you try one, you’ll be hooked! But you have to buy them early; they go fast.”

It turns out he was right on all counts. Amused that I was the one who was next sent on break, with a few coins in my pocket and curiosity in my taste buds I headed to the bakery section in the back of the store. There I was lucky enough to find a few of the desired item still in the display case, quickly bought one and headed off to the break room. Soon I was in asiago bagel heaven, the mass of cheese filling the hole in the middle and melted around the bottom a special delight!

Wouldn’t you know, once on board I found that my new bagel addiction was hard to feed. My bagger friend was right; the asiago variety sold out quickly each morning, leaving only an empty tray and a few crumbs in their slot next to their jalapeno cheddar brothers. Farther on down there were likewise plenty of its cinnamon crunch buddies, my former bagel of choice, but having tasted the asiago variety I was surprised to find that they no longer tempted me the way they used to. I would simply sigh in disappointment and turn away to find a less satisfying snack to eat that day.

I even mentioned the problem to the bakery manager the next time I saw him, asking why he didn’t refill the bagel case when one particular variety sold out. He told me that they put out all that they have at one time, and once they’re gone, they’re gone. He did suggest a simple solution to the problem, however, generously offering to put some aside for me if I’d mention the matter to him the night before.

I’ve yet to take him up on the offer, and I think I know why. I like the anticipation of the trip to that corner of the store, wondering if my desire is going to be satisfied on that particular morning. Whatever the outcome, the longing remains and springs up fresh and new on the succeeding day. It’s even stirred by the sight of a bakery bag coming down the lane in the midst of a customer’s groceries when I’m working behind the register later on, the toasted cheese shreds on the bagel visible through the translucent packaging a dead giveaway to the wonders of what lie inside.

It’s the same thing that brings me to my devotional time each day, the anticipation of what God might have to say. I’ve become addicted to the sound of His voice. I’m amazed that I lived for years not knowing that such a treat was available to me, and am forever grateful to the fellow traveler who one day asked me if I’d sampled His wares. His description of the joy he found in his own relationship with God intrigued me, and after giving the matter some thought, I decided to try it out for myself. What I found, however, was so much more than just a temporary satisfaction to a momentary hunger. God literally saved and then changed my life, little by little in those morning meetings with Him, a bite at a time.

An interesting thing has happened as a result. Other pleasures, some healthy, others less so, have lost their pull on my life, replaced by a taste sensation in those mealtimes with God that they just can’t match. And now I’m hooked. I come to Him each day for food that satisfies, and unlike as sometimes happens in the bakery, I never come away disappointed. He always has something ready for me if I’ll simply make the time to head in His direction.

Due to their scarcity, there’s an unwritten code of ethics to be followed among us cheese bagel devotees that applies only to this one variety we so adore: you buy one and leave one for the next person who comes along. Another asiago addict told me that he tried to stare down a lady beside him at the bakery case who quickly stashed three in a bag and left in a hurry, refusing to meet his accusing gaze. And I laughed at myself the other day when a bakery bag came down the conveyor belt of my checkout lane, and I could clearly see the bagels lying inside, back to cheesy back. While I always confirm the quantity inside with the customer before ringing them up, I noticed there was a slight edge to my voice and I spoke perhaps a little too loudly as I asked, “You’ve got two in here?” She ignored my tone as best she could and simply nodded as she continued to unload her groceries. But she got my point.

All joking aside, we tend to do that with the spiritual treats we consume, as well. We hoard what God meant to be freely shared about, and wait for people to be stirred by the tell-tale signs of His presence inside our human packaging before offering to share the joy we’ve discovered with the hungry souls around us. God wants us to simply give what we’ve got away. Thankfully His supply never runs out, His mercies are new every morning, and refills are available throughout the day! Any time we feel the hunger rumbling in our spirits we can physically or mentally hit our knees and smile at our Father in anticipation as we whisper, “A little asiago cheese, please…?!”

It’s a picture and a plea He simply can’t resist.

“And Jesus said to them, I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes on Me shall never thirst.”
(John 6:35 MKJV)

A Clear VIEW

It started with the fine print on menus in dimly lit restaurants. My husband found that he simply couldn't read them anymore. I laughed at him as with increasing frequency I was forced to read his dining options aloud to him. Increasingly frequent headaches from staring too intently at computer screens all day and a decreasing ability to read small print of any kind finally forced him to accept the inevitable, and he came home one day with the glasses that were eventually to become a permanent fixture on his face.

I realize now that I shouldn't have laughed, because eventually the same thing happened to me. I could feel the strain in my eyes as they tried to bring the printed pages before me into focus. Soon, I too, became the proud owner of a new set of spectacles. I've noticed lately a need to have them ever close at hand, while just mere months ago they would sit unused for days at a time. My use of them grows as my eyesight fails, a result of the aging process. My glasses are quickly becoming an indispensable tool I take with me as I travel through my days.

I put them on as I sat down to read this morning and realized that once again they were desperately in need of cleaning. The task itself triggered the same memory it always does, of my father cleaning my glasses for me when I was a little girl. My entry into the family photo album was marked by my vision problems. Pictures of a decidedly cross-eyed toddler were followed quickly by those of the same child wearing a miniature pair of specs. I remember those eyeglass frames to this day. In fact, if truth be told, I probably still have them, buried in a box somewhere in the basement. Those black cat-eye frames with silver specks were nightly tucked away in a blue leather case with a panda bear sticker on the front.

I hated those glasses. I wanted my eyes to have free exposure to the world around me and disliked the thought of having to hide them behind those vision aids. I ignored them as best I could, and of course it never entered my mind to clean them occasionally. So my father took on that job. I remember how he'd sigh as he once again plucked them off my face, wiped them clean and set them once again upon my nose. He, better than I, understood the necessity of keeping a clear view of things.

Now that glasses are once more a part of my life I once again struggle with remembering to clean them regularly. It's not until the smudges on them loom larger than the words I'm trying to read that it occurs to me that they might need some attention. My husband doesn't have that problem. He cleans his glasses as part of his morning routine each day, recognizing the need to see clearly if he's to accomplish all he has to do each day.

Many of us put as little effort into improving our spiritual vision as I do into enhancing my physical eyesight. We don't make a habit of cleaning our spiritual eyeglasses at the start of the day. Lack of time or concern are usually the reasons we fail to do so, not realizing that our neglect of the necessary affects our view of the situations around us all day long. Soon the fingerprints of man and the dark smudges of difficulties we face accumulate until they mar our view of God and what He wants to accomplish in our lives. Everything we see is tainted with the grime of the world, instead of viewed through the clear possibilities we possess in Christ. We need to start each day with the cleansing power of His mercy and forgiveness, and then let our eyes light on the promises and power in His Word, to fill our minds and hearts with food for the day ahead.

In much the same way as I resented my glasses as I child, sometimes we balk at the restrictions God's view of things seems to put on our lives, longing for the freedom to live as we wish. But His Word has a corrective action that works behind the scenes, often unnoticed, until with increasing frequency our wants and desires come in line with His. What was once an annoyance we now hardly notice. As we age spiritually we realize in increasing measure the failure of our own abilities and our increased dependence on Him, as it becomes ever more apparent that we can't see on our own at all anymore, except in Him.

No matter how old I get, I'll always need my Father to clean my spiritual spectacles. But now I know the importance of making that process a regular part of my day. I know that viewing the world around me through God's perspective is the only way I can complete the work He has for me to do and fulfill His purpose and plan for my life. I've found out that the earlier in the day I put my spiritual glasses on, the better off I'll be. The details of what God has on the menu of life for me might suddenly come into focus and become a real feast for the eyes. I'll want to be able to read all about it for myself.

"The eye is the lamp of the body.
 If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light."
(Matthew 6:22 NIV)

GREEN and GROWING

I sat on the balcony of our hotel room, sipping coffee and watching the gardener tend to the plants in the atrium below. In what must’ve been a morning ritual, the woman hooked a particular nozzle on to her garden hose and gave the waiting plants their morning shower. It’s strange, but I could almost feel their delight. I was reminded of feeding time at a zoo and the many times I’ve seen the lions and tigers (and bears? Oh my…) pace behind the bars of their cages in anticipation of an upcoming meal. Plants are not so mobile, but I wondered if they feel an equally intense yet less visible excitement as their caretaker approaches and hooks up her hose to the water spout! Surely their early morning watering is the high point of their day and perhaps the very reason that the conservatory which stretched below me was filled with healthy, thriving plants.

Perhaps our spiritual gardens would be as verdant if we Christians found the same delight in our morning meeting time with our Creator! Washed free of yesterday’s grime, our thirst slaked, our hunger satisfied… our only concern would then be to grow and radiate the joy of living in such a lovely spiritual place.

Returning to the balcony an hour later with a second cup of brew, I saw that the gardener was likewise back, this time clipping off the dead leaves she found and throwing them in the trash. I was surprised that she was able to find any leaves to clip - they surely weren’t visible to me in the overwhelming mass of green foliage below. But she seemed to know where to look for them, reaching deep in one pocket of greenery after another to pull out brown and curling leaves that were as yet invisible to the casual observer, removing them before their condition became more obvious and spoiled the overall look of the plant.

How awesome that God does exactly that with us. He knows the exact location of every dead and dying aspect of our existence, be it a bad attitude in one corner of our heart, an unforgiven wrong lying just beneath the surface of the face we present to the world, or a hurt of some kind that’s buried in the depths of our soul. God reaches deep and plucks that rotten part of our personality out before it becomes visible and mars the witness we present to a watching world… if He gets the chance.

You see, sometimes I don’t show up for my morning grooming. Unlike the plants I saw below me, I am able to move at will… and I frequently will myself to move in too many directions at once rather than sit for a bit and wait on God’s will.

It happened to me this morning. Away for a week on a vacation with my sister, we had a full day of activities planned. I was the first awake and felt a yearning in my soul to find a morning meeting place with God. But not wanting to disturb my sis with my pre-dawn wanderings, I succumbed to my laziness and the lure of the comfy blankets and pillows, and stayed in bed instead. There wasn’t another chance to get away with God before the day was well underway. I didn’t think about it again till many hours later when we were struggling to find our way on unfamiliar freeways in a driving rainstorm. Tension was as thick as the moisture-laden clouds above us, and I snapped an impatient response to my sister’s attempts at navigation. I quickly apologized, but later wondered if my momentary grouchiness was just the result of the stress of the moment… or perhaps was a “dead leaf” in my spiritual garden that God would’ve snipped if I’d given Him a chance to tend to my life this morning as I knew He desired.

And so I entered the New Year with new resolve. When for whatever reason I’m tempted to skip out on a morning grooming session I’ll remember the gorgeous view from that balcony and remind myself of how the healthy condition of each individual plant contributed to the beauty of the whole. Likewise I want to be a positive part of the Kingdom of God, not a weak and wilted specimen that’s destined for the compost pile because I gave in too often to the desire to dally in bed awhile.

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
(Psalm 139:23-24 KJV)