I was seized by a fleeting panic at dinner last night. That is, until I remembered who I was married to.

In addition to the braised pork tenderloin covered with a sweet apricot glaze, Joan had prepared a couple of tossed salads for us. Some (safe) Romaine lettuce, tomato slices, chopped red onion, sliced cucumber, and cranberry/walnut salad toppers to garnish. Yes, she is an extraordinary cook, and no, I don’t nearly deserve even a fraction of the joy she brings into my life.

Nevertheless…

As we finished saying grace, I reached over for the bottle of Ken’s Steakhouse Chunky Bleu Cheese dressing to lavish onto my salad. I noticed right away the bottle was suspiciously light. I opened it and looked in. To my horror and dismay, I saw the bottle was nearly empty. 

That’s when the panic hit. How could I even consider eating a tossed salad without a healthy dose of Ken’s Steakhouse Chunky Bleu Cheese dressing on top? 

Utterly impossible! Blasphemous! Why would you even ask me that?

But then I remembered. I remembered that besides being the amazing chef, gardener, and conversationalist she is, Joan is also a very savvy grocery shopper. She starts, naturally, by buying all the things on the list. But she also knows which items we make heavy use of… you know, things like Ken’s Steakhouse Chunky Bleu Cheese dressing, for example… and makes sure to buy extra.

Just in case.

My panic abated immediately as I strode confidently to the pantry, opened the door, and found there the fresh, new, unopened bottle of Ken’s Steakhouse Chunky Bleu Cheese dressing I knew would be sitting right there.

PHEW! Crisis averted. Salad saved.  

Once again, I was spared the experience of “going without,” even momentarily. And as I proceeded to generously dress my salad, I could not avoid thinking about how distant and foreign “going without” has become in my life. 

You could never call us affluent, even by the most generous definition of the word. And yet, cupboards are never bare in the Brown house. Expenses are seldom spared. Pennies are gently – not desperately – pinched. If Joan or I desire something, we can usually figure out a way to justify going out and getting it. 

I am, however, not a stranger to going without. There were times in my youth when the ends did not quite meet and I heard the phrase, “Sorry, Rusty… that will have to wait until next month” in response to numerous requests.

College and my early years of marriage provided additional opportunities to find out how far a dollar could stretch. I remember foraging for refundable pop bottles and aluminum cans. I also remember – not proudly, you understand – the times my college roommate Marcus and I competed to see who could find the longest cigarette butt on the side of the road. 

And yes, we would then light up those butts and smoke them.

Now, those days are long past. Also gone with them, I worry, is my ability to empathize with those who go without on a daily basis. Yes, I can go to Guatemala once a year and walk among the poorest of the poor. I can sit with them, talk with them, and listen to the tone of desperation in their voices as they tell their stories. But then I can also hop back on the plane, eat the pretzels the flight attendant hands out, and very quickly resume my comfort-filled life. 

And so, as I slather on more Ken’s Steakhouse Chunky Bleu Cheese dressing, I cannot help but wonder how the material abundance of my world distorts my capacity for Christlikeness. 

Ultimately, we each bloom – or wither – where we are planted, don’t we? I should probably come to grips with the fact that it will not be my going with or going without that will determine the state of my soul, but rather my attendance to that one, essential task.

Help me, Jesus. Help me depend on you alone, not relying on the abundance of heat, electricity, water, or Ken’s Steakhouse Chunky Bleu Cheese dressing as measures of my well-being. Help me also bring some measure of comfort to my brothers and sisters who will go to bed hungry, cold, fearful, and hopeless tonight.

AMEN.

Abundant blessings;