Musings: Notes From My Daybook

Genuine leather.  Those two words, stamped in gold, were on the inside lip of the wallet.  I found it to be an interesting juxtaposition.  Genuine and leather.  I guess the manufacturer wanted to leave no doubt that this was real leather.  However, it seems to me that leather is leather and vinyl is vinyl.  To have to say that it is genuine makes me think that there is something else going on.

I do understand the phrase “imitation leather” and I avoid it like the plague! (I think it has to do with a pair of shoes that bore such a label when I was in high school!) Of course, the term is used because sellers don’t want the buyer thinking “vinyl” or “plastic” or some other synthetic material.  Both buyer and seller want to sell or buy something that is the real thing.  And, if the real thing is not affordable or available, or if the seller does not have the real thing to sell, then the desire is to at least come close to the real thing!

Speaking of real things, I think we all want the real thing when it comes to faith.  We want to believe, to trust, and to act faithfully.  But sometimes the real thing is a little too costly to our way of thinking.  Or, sometimes, it can be a little too easy to slip into the mode of thinking that the way of faith can be reduced to a label.

Reductionism is not a viable option for the Christian life.  Francois Fenelon (d. 1715) said, “There is but one way in which God should be loved, and that is to take no step except with Him and for Him, and to follow, with a generous self-abandonment, everything which He requires.”  That is what (real) faith looks like.

Real or imitation, paper or plastic, window or aisle—we live with a lot of choices in our world.  But you and I know, down in our heart of hearts, that there is no substitute for a good leather shoe, or wallet, or purse.  And when it comes to the practice of faith, well, vinyl just does not wear well at all.

After nearly three years of living in Atlanta I finally made my way to Mary Mac's, a long time Altanta dining establishment.  For over 60 years they have been serving up fried chicken, fried okra, and fried green tomatos.  Of course, not everything is fried.  There is pot likker, hoppin' john, and collard greens as well.  Mary Mac's is what you see when you look up "southern comfort food" in the dictionary!

It was a great meal, though what made great was not the food.  Rather, what makes good food great is being in the company of others.  Passing around a plateful of spicy, deep-fried "Mudbugs" (read "crayfish" ) is best done with folk that you know and folk that you are happy to get to know.

Gathering around a table is not about filling our bellies; it is about filling our souls.  Sharing a meal with others is really sharing life.  And without sharing life--the stories, the jokes, the joys and heartaches of life--well, you might as well stay home and have peanut butter.

But even a peanut butter sandwich can be a feast when you are with friends.  It makes perfect sense to me why Jesus would connect his death and resurrection, along with his ongoing presence with his believers to the basic elements of a dinner--bread and drink.  By sharing food--he shared his life.

I look forward to eating and drinking with Jesus when time shall be no more.  But until that time, I find plenty of joy with men and women at Mary Mac's or Daddy D's or Manuel's Tavern or. . . . on Sunday mornings at Northlake.