A number of people I know and indeed love enjoy eating cheese.

Notice. I still love them. That’s truly amazing, because I don’t like cheese. At all. In fact I’ve been known to say I despise the stuff. So to still love those who enjoy something I hate is testament to the mercy and grace of God living in me. (It’s a bit like coffee, but at least coffee drinkers are funny.)

Seriously, I don’t have the appetite for cheese, so I don’t approach it. I leave it to others who obviously enjoy the stuff to gorge themselves on it.

My daughters love playing in the park on their scooters.

It’s fascinating watching them whizz around the park on their scooters doing all kinds of crazy things. I recall, however, that when I was around their age I had a little incident with a bike and from it I didn’t really mess around with those type of things again. Indeed for the years since then my idea of doing something daring was attempting to take the two Bakewell Tarts from the six that really belong to my wife, but having already consumed four of them there is the urge to finish the set. So despite my daughters flinging themselves along on their scooters I have no desire to join them.

What both incidents have in common is the appetite factor. If you don’t have the appetite for it, you won’t go near it, you won’t do anything about it to get involved.

When we gather as a church family from time to time, it’s interesting seeing what we have an appetite for. Some have the appetite for routine. Some have the appetite for excitement and noise. Some have the appetite for some speaker to entertain them for the best part of 45 minutes whilst somebody else relieves them of childcare for a few precious hours. Some have a genuine appetite for fellowship, for mutual edification for blessing others to support them in being a blessing to others.

Among all of this the genuine appetite for doing and being everything pleasing to God can appear to be somewhat lacking.

The thing about the appetite as well, if you are feeding on something else you really don’t have much of an appetite left for anything else. As you feast and gorge on the cheese sandwiches there’s little point telling you of the fruit salad, because you’ll probably have enough for a mouthful and then go back to your cheese.

You’ll get your routine, you’ll get your excitement, you’ll get your childcare, you’ll get your weekly entertainment, but after all that will there be enough room left for what really matters?

Or is it just a case that we don’t have the appetite for it..

For His Name’s Sake


C. L. J. Dryden


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