In the kitchen there is a big bowl of fruit. Sometimes it is all different, other times it’s all the same fruit. I was wondering which one was the best of the apples. I picked them up one by one, and I thought "I own them all, they are mine. I should just love them all the same, they’re all mine."
I picked them up and I smelled them. Each smelled so “appley,” and I loved it. I love the smell of apples. I picked them up, smelling and feeling each of them and then put them back in the bowl one by one. Experiencing each of them alone, and somewhere in my minds memory, I catalogued them. They are mine and I can have them as I want them.
I have owned a lot of cars. I started with one my dad gave me. I called it Kermit. It was a big, huge Mercury Park Lane. It was great. I also owned a Ford Courier. I got to have it painted by an expert Low Rider Artist. It was well, Bold. I also owned a Sentra, a Corolla, and a Maxima. But among my cars, I remember most my Ford Mustang GT. I drove them all, but I really drove the GT. It was fast, fun, loud and had that “throatie,” American exhaust sound that only a real American muscle car can make. It was for me, MY car I drove it, I really drove it.
Isn’t all that just boring? I spend a lot of time thinking. I drive a lot.
I thought back to the apples. Which one do I love the most? My boy Nate grabs one on his way to school, but it is mine. My wife may have one sliced up with her dinner, but it is also mine. Do I really love those?
Today, I had one of the apples. I picked it up. I was hungry for an apple. I smelled it. I held it in my hands and felt it. I looked at it, and I thought: "I can’t taste it. I can’t hear this apple." Then I bit into it. I tasted it, and as my teeth sunk into its flesh and the blood of the apple quenched my thirst and in an almost wasteful way, splashed onto my lips. I could almost feel the crisp crunch in my ears. I found the apple I loved the most. It was a miracle. One bite and I had my favorite. I didn't do anything for it, I didn't give it a gift, I ate it and I tasted it and I drank it in. It was so refreshing. It literally fed me while none of the other apples in that big wooden bowl did anything but sit there.
So now I am driving again, and I am thinking: "Here I am in my Chrysler 300C driving smoothly at 90 miles per hour. And I thought which one is in the bowl? Which one is my favorite? Which one do I really love?"
Then I looked in the bowl and in my mind’s eye, I saw all of my gods, and my God. And I wondered which one do I eat, and drink and smell and taste and love the most? There are so many, and only one that speaks to me or hears me. Only one that answers and cares. Only one that instructs me to Love Justice, Show Mercy and Walk Humbly before Him.
And He is the one I have not eaten completely. He is the one that stands and beckons me saying “come to me if you are hungry” and warns me “if you do not eat my flesh and drink my blood, you shall not…”
Truth is, the apple I eat is the apple I love. My lies are exposed, I can’t tell the one “I love you” but eat the other.
