Fresh

I think our society has some mixed up ideas.

Fresh fruit, for instance. In our country, most of the time buying fresh fruit means driving down to the supermarket, wheeling a shopping cart through the gleaming aisles, and making selections from the displays of apples that were shipped weeks ago, tomatoes that were plucked green, and bananas desperately trying to ripen under the glare of the florescent lights. Blackberries and raspberries of uniform size and shape rest in their little plastic jails, *er* cartons, smug and safe.

So what? What's wrong with some convenience? After all, that way we can get fruit in the winter so we don't get scurvy and have our teeth fall out.

There's nothing wrong with convenience. The problem is when we don't remember that there's something missing...

Hot, thick sunshine pulling beads of sweat onto my skin. Thick grass soft under my bare feet. Blackberry canes nodding in the breeze that tickles my face. Soft fruit falling into my fingers. A blackberry as big around as a quarter and so full of Tennessee rain and sunshine that it explodes sun-warmed sweetness into my mouth. I don't even have to chew; it's so ripe it just melts away. Moving into the shade of the vine's thick leaves and marveling at the sudden drop in temperature just inches away from the sun's bright rays. Shiny black fruit that begs to be gathered. Fruit so fresh that I have to swat the ants off of it and fight for territory with the wasps. It takes some time, some sweat, and some effort. But the experience is about more than just getting the berries picked; there's something in the gathering that I could never experience by picking up a pound of blackberries in the store.

Our society constantly seeks "fresh," new ideas. We package up things like friendship and communication in little plastic jails, *er* cartons, and label them cell phones (BlackBerry!), text messaging, and facebook.

There is nothing wrong with the convenience of these services. They can keep us from getting scurvy and having our teeth fall out... in other words, from completely losing contact with people that live far away. But when we don't have to put in the time, sweat, and effort, we lose the full experience. Friendship can be hard; but after quality time cultivating and nurturing it, we experience sweetness that can't be wrapped up in cellophane.

I think this also applies to my relationship with God.

There are lots of "fresh" new ideas... new books, new worship songs, new Bible study curricula, new ideas for outreach, all available in the "grocery store" of the Christian market, and even the Christian church. There is nothing wrong with these things (as long as they stick to Scripture!), and they might even keep my teeth from falling out... I mean, help encourage me to walk uprightly in a fallen world.

But if I put my effort and concentration into these things, trusting them to be the full experience of God, I miss something. I miss Him. I miss out on the One who delights in using the simple and foolish things to shame the wise of this world. I miss the sweetness of passionate prayer. I miss the sunny delight of learning from Him in His word. I miss the dry times of yelling at God to do something, anything, to let me know He's still there. I miss the enveloping comfort of finding out that He is.

A relationship with God requires time, sweat, and effort. And a lot of times there are ants and wasps that have to be shooed away. But the reward is the experience...

... experiencing God.