When I was a little girl, I was unrivaled in nursery rhyming. After all, Dr. Seuss taught me how to read.
Today I have the oddest thing playing over and over in my head. Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old. I’m sure this has some reasonable origin or historic reference, I don’t know. It may not even be about peas porridge, whatever that is. It has a na-na, ring to it so I can only guess that it was perhaps meant to be some sort of taunt. Maybe the people who sustained themselves on this disgusting dish were poor, thus the nine-days-old part. Who knows?
I was talking about God’s banquet the other day and how we have the best available to us, anytime we want to reach for it. I doubt God serves up peas porridge at His table. Still, most of us seem content with gruel rather than make the effort to chew the steak. Why is that? I guess it’s all according to what one is used to. In other words, we just don’t know any better. Somewhere in time, in some church somewhere, we were told that this is what you get, make the best of it. And for goodness sakes, smile while you choke it down.
Lately, some of us have been smelling charcoal…….and barbeque sauce. I don’t know about you people, but I’m looking for a lawn chair and a beer. Look, porridge time is over. I’m not quite sure why we were satisfied with that in the first place. I smell blood and I like mine medium rare.
Some like it hot, some like it cold, some like it in the pot nine days old. Some of us may think that we’re cutting edge. Some of us may not want things to change at all. There’s still a few of us creeping around with the same songs and order of service that our grandparents observed. Whatever has been served up for the past 50 years or so is about to get thrown out completely. Hey, I love the old songs. I believe that there are some serious things that we could learn about prayer and the fear of God from the precious saints of the recent past, but there is nothing to be gained from holding on to dead religion. I didn’t say ‘a’ dead religion, I said dead religion as in going through the motions with your head while your heart is asleep.
So, who’s going to get in the steak line with me?