Tuesday, March 22, 2005

infuse me

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?” - Matthew 5:13 (NASV)

I’d been around the table twice and had tried a bite of every offering: potato salad, macaroni salad, fruit salad. Little ham sandwiches. Barbecued beans. Jell-o. I’d even had a tiny, tiny slice of Mississippi Mud brownies. Enough was enough.

“Ready to go?” my husband asked. I nodded.

Our host, Scott, chased us down and blocked our exit. “Not so fast.” He steered us back toward the kitchen and pointed to a platter on the counter. “One bite,” he commanded.

I wasn’t hungry. Not even a little. If I’d wanted more to eat, I’d have circled the table again. Who leaves a potluck hungry?

But Scott insisted. “Come on. One taste won’t hurt you.”

So I obliged. I accepted one polite mouthful. And that one morsel, that savory, drippy, delectable nibble made me drop my purse and reach for a plate. The bite was moist and herby. Succulent. The juices slithered across my lips and trickled toward my chin. I became, suddenly, barbaric and mannerless; a she-Viking before a banquet, and quite shameless in my exuberance.

What was the object of such rapturous ramblings, such gluttonous ecstasy? Deep-fried turkey. I’d been skeptical when I heard of the unorthodox procedure, but that one bite won me over. A half hour in that vat of oil had fried the skin to crisp perfection, while the meat inside was beyond tender. I’d never tasted a turkey as good.

“How did you make it taste like this?” I asked.

Scott grinned and held up a syringe with a wickedly long needle. “Cajun spices, salt, garlic, herbs, butter. I used this and I showed no mercy.”

“More,” I grunted, thrusting my plate toward the proud chef. I ate until I couldn’t. And I’m not ashamed. I’d do it again, without apology.

Some things are just that good.

Lord, here I am--aware of my uselessness and in need of your touch. You’ve called me to a task. You’ve asked me to be salt and you’ve sent me out to woo and draw the lost to you. But I know my ineffectiveness. I am salt that has long since lost its flavor. I am bone-dry and tasteless.

Inject me, Lord. No matter the cost. No matter how I might protest. Do what you must to flavor me with your essence, so that all I meet will know that I’ve been saturated in your presence. Pierce me and fill me with your compassion, your patience, your mercy, your love. Make me a carrier of your goodness to a hungry world.

Infuse me, Lord.

6 Comment:

At 3/22/2005 2:14 PM, Blogger Darlene had this to say ...

Ooooh. That was a good one.

I was just looking at the side bar to find your archived blogs. I figured I would give some of them a read.

I didn't find archives, but I did find a certain bloggers link at the side. Thanks alot, that is really nice.

At 3/22/2005 2:20 PM, Blogger kelly had this to say ...

And I wonder why we Americans are so overweight (myself included). Now, hopefully, I can find the good in it.


At 3/22/2005 5:15 PM, Blogger Jimmy had this to say ...

Great analogy, Shannon. As a southern boy, born and bred on deep fried turkey, I had never thought of it beyond my own appetite for food. Now I can also see it as a correlation to my appetite for God. Both fill, but only ONE thoroughly nourishes.

At 3/22/2005 9:58 PM, Blogger Maurice had this to say ...

Good words Shannon! I need to infused by Him daily.

At 3/23/2005 10:21 PM, Anonymous Anonymous had this to say ...

Shanny, I love reading your blogs.
We need to spend more of those times eating together! What a good reminder we are the salt. Diana

At 3/27/2005 8:20 PM, Blogger Donna J. Shepherd had this to say ...

You've almost made me want to try it. :)

Good analogy. I want to be infused with the Holy Spirit's presence till I'm overflowing. Thanks for the post!


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