I can still taste the tiny bite that I took.

I was defensive at first, when Ken mentioned that the taco meat hadn’t tasted quite right. I was feeling proud that I’d even thought ahead, and put meat in the crock pot for him and the boys. But that meat was nothing to feel proud about. It’s a taste I want to forget, but can’t.

I buy those big containers of Taco Seasoning at Costco, so I’m pretty generous as I dump it onto the meat to simmer. But this time I had grabbed the Lawry’s Seasoned Salt in stead. Same sized container. Same color. Totally different outcome. A heap of salt on two pounds of meat does way more damage than good. 

But my salt blasted tacos actually gave me some encouragement. I have several friends whom I’d love to bring to Jesus. I think if they could just see him clearly, they would love him, and he would change everything for them… for the better! So what do I do? I talk with them about the band concert or the fourth grade teachers or my dog groomer or where we got our Christmas tree. I might have ten conversations before I get a two minute window to even mention Jesus.

But maybe that’s not so bad. Jesus wants me to be a sprinkle of salt, not a dumped heap. I don’t do him any favors if I’m a taste they want to forget. If my life can be a flavor enhancer, maybe I’ll make his name seem more savory, when I mention it.

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