Taste and See

I remember the horror to this day—watching my husband eat a sandwich for the first time. It wasn’t the size of his bites (monstrous) or the speed of consumption (Olympian). No, it was the fact that it lacked any discernible flavor.

Bread. Turkey. Sadness.

That’s it.

His reasoning for this spartan affair?

“I hate condiments.”

I was appalled. Mildly concerned. It’s a testament to his many other accomplishments and sterling qualities that I didn’t end the relationship on the spot.

Time passed. We married. I began cooking his food. And like any loving wife, I used him as a guinea pig—slowly imposing my own taste preferences upon his unsuspecting person. A tiny smear of mayonnaise hidden in his lunch. A dash of hot sauce stirred into soup.

As it turns out, his hatred of mustard and pickles was genetically wired and very real. But mayonnaise? He began to notice when it was missing. He even started asking for it.

Victory has never tasted so sweet. Nor so calorie-dense.

The real mystery was solved a few months later when we were visiting his parents. We were making sandwiches, and I asked his mom for mayonnaise. That adorable, wonderful, saint of a woman smiled brightly and said, “Sure!”—and then plopped a jar of Miracle Whip onto the counter.

If you were born south of the Mason-Dixon line, you just gasped on my behalf.

Because if you know, you know: Miracle Whip is not mayonnaise. I’m not entirely sure what it is, besides an abomination. To my everlasting credit, I did try it. My opinion did not change. I offered it to my husband, who also choked it down without pleasure.

And then I realized something.

My husband had probably always liked mayonnaise. He just hated Miracle Whip. He didn’t know they were two different things—until he tasted the genuine article.

I made a friend this past year. She’s lovely—kind, creative, quick to smile, quicker to serve. She is not, however, by her own confession, a Christian.

She grew up in church. Played piano for years. Raised her children in the faith. And that “church” is the reason she no longer claims Christ.

That church supported and enabled her abuser, despite clear evidence. It quickly ushered her into a second marriage—different man, same intensity of mistreatment. She lived for decades under a heavy burden of law, anger, and condemnation until she finally broke under the pressure. She later found a man who was more like Christ to her than anyone she had known before—only to be publicly humiliated and told they were both headed to hell.

Is it any surprise she disavows the name of Christ? That she sees it as a cover for hate and unspeakable things? Not to me. And probably not to you.

The psalmist says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

But this woman has tasted bitter fruit.

My friends, these things ought not to be.

I am doing my imperfect best to be mayonnaise in her life—not Miracle Whip. But every time she bravely shares another layer of her story, my heart cracks a little more. And I worry she may never be willing to try that flavor again.

Yes, it’s an almost-silly analogy for a heart-breaking reality. But we need to be honest as the family of God.

We have a world that is lost, broken, and desperate for the love and redemption of Christ. Yet when they come to our tables, we often hand them something counterfeit. We give political rants and jeremiads about the state of society. We obsess over denominational splinters while ignoring the institutionalized anger and judgment thriving in our pews. We cling to what Jerry Bridges called “respectable sins” and hold them tighter than our Bibles when we feel threatened.

My friends, I say it again: these things ought not to be.

Change begins one heart at a time. I’m starting with my own.

Where am I adding burdens to the gospel—making it heavier than Christ did?

Where am I judging where I should be serving?

Where has self-preoccupation crowded out the selfless spirit of Christ?

I humbly ask you to search your own heart as well. My friend’s story is not unique. And we will all give account for the Christ we present to the world—how we represent our Father and His Kingdom.

My prayer is that people would enter our homes and truly “taste and see that the Lord is good.” And that the flavor they find there would wash away any memory of the counterfeit. Because our God is indeed very good.

And so very worthy of our worship.

With love,

Kelsey