To those who know me, it is scarcely a secret that I have been in a valley of sorts, spiritually speaking. And lest it be misunderstood as of what I am speaking, my communion with God has been lacking, my desire for the things of the God has been quelled, and my life has been consumed with things that are passing instead of with things that are everlasting. And there is little mystery behind why these things have been so (namely arising from and perpetuated by a lack of beholding Christ in his Word and communing with his people), and yet I have done little to remedy my state. I have been till recently content to feed myself with the fleeting things of this age instead of feasting upon riches of God and his glory in his Son.
Yet to be honest, content is much too strong a word. For I have found little contentment in the those things which deterred me from beholding Christ, and I have found no rest for my soul in those fleeting things. And despite this, the Adversary had convinced me that the things of God were laborious and that there was little reward for chasing after them. And so he (being the slick devil that he is) convinced me, figuratively speaking, again and again, meal after meal, that it was better for me to drive across the street to eat off the Wendy’s value menu than to drive a few miles down the road to dine at the Ruth’s Chris.
And though my disposition toward the things of God has been so as of late, God has shown that which Martin Luther said so many years to be true, namely that the devil, as fierce and formidable as foe he is, is still God’s devil. And though he might try with all his might to devour one of God’s saints with the cares of this age, God is God, the devil is his creature, and his saint will not be consumed. And God, being the all-powerful and ever-reigning God that he is, will take his saint’s blundering and floundering steps and use to them for his good purposes.
And this past weekend is a testimony to that. For some reason, God had had enough of my diet of Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers and threw me in the back of his car and drove me to Ruth’s Chris. Whether it was at First Friday fellowshipping with his saints and hearing Christ magnified, painting walls all day Saturday while listening to sermon podcasts, or going to church on Sunday discussing, “In the beginning was the Word,” I dined at Ruth’s Chris for three days straight. And after having feasted upon the meat of Christ and his Gospel for these three days, the Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers of this age have all but lost their allure. I look back upon these several weeks and wonder how on earth I could have forgotten how much better Christ is than the overrated offerings of this world.
As this weekend closed, I could not help but recall the words of the psalmist– “Taste and see that the Lord is good!” It is almost like a dare. “I dare you to taste the goodness of the Lord; just try him.” And though in my case it was much more a being thrown to the dinner table than it was an invitation, the fact remains that for those who taste the goodness of God in Christ, everything else that claims to have taste becomes utterly bland. One claims to have taste and dangles itself beyond grasp, and the Other gives you a taste and dares you to compare. And, my friends, if you dare to taste, there is no comparison with Jesus Christ.