Summer is a cornucopia of wonderful tastes. Forget haute cuisine. I’d rather sample sun-kissed garden produce any day. Homegrown lettuce. New potatoes. Peas and beans picked in the morning, smothered in butter in the evening. Tender, young cukes. Local corn whose kernels, when tested, squirt milk in your eye. And especially the taste of sun-ripened local tomatoes. A flavor to carry with us through the cold days of winter.

I can almost taste a fresh, homegrown tomato as I write. Thick slices on a hunk of sourdough bread. Whew, I wish the sun would hurry them to our table. Then we could forget about all those gassed clones shipped from Florida or Mexico. We could ignore those hothouse tomatoes trying desperately to conjure up some of the flavor of a sun-drenched tomato from a local garden.

Taste is another of God’s astonishing gifts of grace. David used taste as a metaphor to illustrate the apex of human experiences. “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.”[1]

David wrote about God’s goodness during a desperate time. He was fleeing for his life from King Saul’s murderous jealousy. He and his men had taken refuge with Saul’s enemy, the king of Gath. Alarmed, Gath’s advisors warned that David represented a greater threat than Saul. To blunt this perception, David first pretended madness then escaped further into the wilderness.

In spite of the terror of betrayal and danger, David penned an amazing Psalm of praise. “I extol the Lord at all times . . . I sought the Lord and he answered; he delivered me from all my fears. . . This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them. Taste and see that the Lord is good.”[2]

David’s psalm illustrates the experience of many saints who have endured great suffering. People come to know God deeply when they cry out to him: in trials, in persecutions, in pain, in sadness, in grief, in danger, in poverty. When fear grips our hearts and we desperately call out to God, he often gives a life-changing sense of his presence. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”[3] Without this element of desperation and helplessness, we often cruise through life trusting in our own abilities to solve problems. We may know about God, but we don’t savour his goodness.

Like many people I had picky eating habits as a child. I didn’t like onions. Now I use them in all my cooking. I didn’t like shrimp. Today, it’s one of my favorites. I certainly didn’t like spicy foods. Then we lived for years in Pakistan where everything was cooked with garlic, onions, chili peppers, and turmeric. Now, we frequently cook curry.

What happened to change my taste in foods? I got dumped into situations where I had to try different dishes. Boarding meals at college. Dinners at friends’ homes. Immersion in the Pakistani culture. I quickly learned that if I didn’t want to starve, I needed to try new foods. Tasting new foods led to the revelation; “Hey that really tastes good!”

Sadly, vast numbers of people have poor spiritual taste buds. Some see evil in the world and blame God. Others just ignore him. Some deny his existence. Others perceive him as the cause of the bad things that happen to them. None have really tasted God’s goodness. They know nothing about God because God is beyond their experience.

Those who cry out to God in their extremity experience his goodness. “I sought the Lord, and he answered me. This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles.” Those who cry out, those who seek, “taste and see that the Lord is good.”

Every believer knows something of God’s goodness. How good is God, the Father, who loved us enough to send his son? How good is God, the Son, who died while bearing our sins? How good is God, the Spirit, who stoops to dwell within our tarnished hearts?

Without some sense of God’s goodness, Christian growth is impossible. Imagine having no taste for food. No delight in fresh produce or—for many of us—a perfectly grilled T-bone steak. Those remembered tastes call us back for more. Pointing to the growth of infants, Peter writes, “Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation.” He goes on to point out that this craving comes to those, “who have tasted that the Lord is good.”[4]

The memory of the first ripe tomatoes fills me with longing. And the memory of past experiences of God’s goodness makes me hungry for more of his presence. Certainly, an explosion of taste sensations will follow us into eternity as God reveals more and more of his glory and grace.

Father, I have tasted your goodness. One glance at the cross confronts me with your love. Another glance down through the years reminds me that “goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life.” Sometimes your goodness shone in privation. Sometimes in days of sunshine and success. Sometimes in pain. Sometimes in utter inadequacy and fear. Lord, please don’t let my hunger and thirst for your presence fade into a distant memory. 

[Watch for the re-issue of this book of devotional thoughts; Down A Country Road.]

(Let me know your thoughts on this subject. If you appreciate this blog, please pass it on. If I can help you spiritually, let me know. Further articles, books, and stories at:  Facebook: Eric E Wright Twitter: @EricEWright1 LinkedIn: Eric Wright ; Eric’s books are available at: https://www.amazon.com/Eric-E.-Wright/e/B00355HPKK%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share)

[1] Psalm 34:8

[2] Psalm 34:1-4,6-8

[3] Psalm 34:18

[4] 1 Peter 2:2,3