My Mashed Potato Jesus…

Day 37

Days to go: 328

Miles Walked: 42

Miles to go: 958

 

Jesus is a lot like mashed potatoes.

This surprises me. I’ve always thought of Him more like salad.

I love mashed potatoes – and I come by it honestly.  My entire family is head-over-heels for those carb-laden, whipped wonders.  

To give you a glimpse of the depth of our adoration, I should probably explain. At Thanksgiving, the turkey is not the star at our banquet.  No indeed! At the Cox house, the real headliner is the heaping, steaming, mashed and oh-so-creamy mound of tater perfection, complete with that tiny crater of melted butter at the summit, the depths of which we all secretly picture ourselves diving into with uncontained glee. Yes, it is the bowl of mashed potatoes that draws forth the exclamations of praise and wonder at my family’s holiday feasts.

Throughout my life, whenever I have been blessed enough to partake of mashed potatoes at any meal, (and I mean REAL mashed potatoes – gotta keep ‘em real!), I know before I even take a bite that they will satisfy me.  I start with them, eagerly relishing several bites before moving on to other obligatory courses like meat and cooked veggies.  I am careful not to eat through my entire spud ration too quickly.  I pace myself, making sure a bite or two await me at the end, once I have paid necessary homage to the other things on my plate.

At some point during the meal, I usually notice a big bowl of salad somewhere on the table. Once I see it, the internal battle begins.  I tell myself that I should probably eat some salad.  I’ve read in lots of places and heard from lots of folks that green leafy things are good for me.  I’ve been told they’re packed with vitamins. (What are vitamins, anyway? I mean, really?)  I ease my conscience by reaching for the bowl and placing some salad on my plate.  I even go to the trouble to make sure I get a tomato, red onion, and a carrot or two for color and variety.  I feel better about dishing up the salad, and I go right back to my potatoes.  It’s true. I am notorious in my family for dishing up salad for myself that I never eat. 

That’s how I’ve been with Jesus.  I’ve heard He’s good for me. I’ve told myself He’s good for me.  I’ve even kept a Bible nearby, gathering dust in a very prominent spot, so I can reach for it should I experience some sudden desire to actually do something good for me for once.  But in the back of my mind, I’ve thought of Him like salad – so I’ve never reached for Him first, and I seldom get around to tasting Him at all.

Here’s the thing.  Salad doesn’t satisfy me like mashed potatoes do.  I am convinced that I could munch through an entire head of lettuce and still not feel as full and satisfied as I do after a reasonable helping of mashed potatoes. (Mind you, this is theory. I’ve never eaten an entire head of lettuce in one sitting. Come to think of it, I’ve never had a “reasonable” helping of mashed potatoes either.)  

Salad doesn’t comfort me like mashed potatoes do.  That’s why mashed potatoes are called “comfort food.” They find the cracks and crevices in your tummy and in your heart, and fill them with sympathetic warmth. Salad is edgy and abrasive and emotionally distant. 

Mashed potatoes are a hug from your favorite grandma.  Salad is a nod of approval from your high school geometry teacher.  I’ve always put Jesus in the “salad, high-school-math-teacher” category.  I was so wrong about Him!

Psalm 34:8 says to “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”  I’ve read that many times, but I’ve always read it a little differently.  My version has always said “Taste and see that the Lord is good for you.”

The truth is, Jesus IS good for me, but that isn’t all He is!  He’s also just so good.

When I’m scared, He gives me peace.

When I am hurt, He comforts and heals.

When I’m lonely, I feel His presence.

When I celebrate, He dances.

When I smile, He smiles too.

I always thought the most I could ever hope for in my relationship with Jesus was dutiful, nutritious obedience that yielded positive, healthful results.  As I walk out my relationship with Him, I’m discovering that the benefits of knowing Him extend far beyond spiritual nutrition and mere duty.

He is my constant companion, my love, and my friend.  He understands me perfectly, corrects me so gently, and loves me, loves me, loves me! 

He satisfies.  Oh, He more than satisfies!

Yes, I had Him pegged all wrong.  Jesus isn’t really like salad after all. 

Jesus is definitely like mashed potatoes…

 

with gravy. 🙂