Mustard on Ice Cream and Chocolate Covered Raisins

A few weeks ago my wife and I took Madalyn, our five-year-old granddaughter, to the zoo. We ate lunch at one of the many overpriced fast-food places. We had chicken strips, a cheeseburger, and ice cream. And that’s where the mustard came in.

I had a sudden inspiration that I could convince my granddaughter to try mustard on her ice cream. Sure, it’s a devious trick to play on a child. And it probably proves that I’m a terrible person and an unfit grandfather. Okay, good points.

But look at it from my perspective: I doubt that I can really fool Madalyn about anything for too much longer. She’s pretty smart, and is already kind of “on to me.” She has begun to respond to my many ideas with kind-hearted skepticism. (“Oh, Papa…”)

That’s where the mustard-on-ice cream started. She didn’t believe me at first. I said things like, “Hey, you should try some of this mustard on your ice cream. It’s the bomb. You’ll love it!” She smiled politely, but wasn’t buying it.

And by the way, just so you’ll know what kind of uphill battle I have to fight, my wife is no help in times like this. In fact she refuses to play along, even though she knows this would bolster my self-esteem and contribute to the overall hilarity of our family. But no. (Pray for her…)

You're Not in Charge

If you’re a parent, I bet you’ve had this “conversation” with your four-year-old: “Kaylee, you're not in charge, Mommy is in charge. You don’t get to tell Mommy what to do, Mommy tells you what to do.”

The actual conversation takes a lot longer, because your toddler won’t quite get it the first time you tell her. Or the fifth time, either.

Kids, right? When they’re little, they think everything is about them. Good thing that all changes when we get older, huh? (Insert sarcasm here.)

Why People Hate Christ

I grew up attending a little Methodist church in our farming community, the only church I knew up through high school. I became a Christian at a Baptist church camp the summer of my sophomore year, but I continued to attend our home church.

Even after I was saved, it never occurred to me that some in our congregation might not be.  I just thought everyone else had already heard and believed the gospel.

Unbelievably our pastor asked me--a high school kid--to preach in his absence a couple times. I knew nothing about preaching and almost nothing about the word of God, but I had a book of Harry Ironside’s sermons. I memorized one of them, and it became the first message I ever preached. I thought that’s how all pastors did it. People congratulated me on the sermon, but I just said, “I got it out of this book.”

Things changed when I went away to college. It finally dawned on me that a lot of religious people don’t really know Christ. I began to share the gospel.  I went home for spring break and my pastor invited me to preach again. This time I knew what I had to say. I told people they were sinners and that they needed Christ. I called on them to repent and believe in Him. And I gave an altar call. Out of the 80 people in our congregation, a dozen came forward to the altar.

But that was the last time I was ever invited to preach in my home church. The leaders of the congregation regarded me with suspicion. I was the kid they thought they knew, but who turned out to be a religious fanatic, a weirdo.