I woke up this morning with the following verse stuck in my head–weird, I know, but that’s life inside my brain.

I love eating good food. Eating is a sensory experience that combines taste, texture, smell, and even sound. I love leaning over a bowl of flour that’s co-mingling with yeast and breathing in that rich, warm…well…yeasty smell. And then there’s the satisfying smoothness of the sticky dough as it coalesces into one solid shape. I love the sound a loaf of bread makes when you thump it after it bakes–it’s like a timpani drum. And, of course, there’s the joy and wonder when you break through the crunchy outer crust to find the soft melt-in-your mouth center.

One of the most powerful qualities of food however, other than the fact that it keeps us alive, is that when we pay attention to eating, the experience sears itself in our memory, so that years later, you might find yourself suddenly transported through time and space with one bite of bread or pie or tomato, or watermelon to people and places that have long since gone, but that helped to shape who you have become.

I often think about my Grandma Ruth when I eat fresh strawberries. When I was a kid, we’d spend a few weeks each summer with my grandparents at their house in the Ozark Mountains. My grandma had a big strawberry patch, and each day, she’d dole out cooking pots to the grandkids and let us go gather the ripe berries, which we’d then wash and freeze for the winter. I must confess, I’m a bit of a strawberry fiend, and when I found a warm, ruby-red ripe berry nestled beneath the green leaves, I couldn’t resist popping it into my mouth. There’s a natural sweetness to home-grown strawberries that you never get with the store-bought ones. And to eat a fresh strawberry warmed by the sun is an almost sacred experience. On those berry picking days, my pot was always nearly empty when we came inside, but my grandma would just laugh and say, “Sara! You’re going to turn into a strawberry!” That was fine with me.

We picked blackberries, too–little round purplish-black fruits that grew wild next to the woods. You had to carefully work your way around the thorns, and I got pricked more than a time or two, but the end result was an explosion of flavor that was tart, with just enough sweet to keep you diving back into the thicket for more.

As I’ve been pondering Psalm 34:8, what I keep hearing is an invitation. It’s an invitation to experience God’s goodness by going out into the world and enjoying the things he has made. Taste, God says. Eat the good food. Savor the experience. Relish the fellowship of sharing a meal with friends and family. Taste, and in the tasting, see that I am good.

I don’t think that God wants us to shut ourselves away from life–to be dour and frumpy and self-righteous about everything. God didn’t create the world in shades of gray, rather, he painted in bold strokes of color and infused it with the most remarkable flavors from cinnamon to saffron and everything in between. Life can be delectable, and when we experience that burst of sweetness from a sun-ripened berry, it’s a reminder that God is good and that he loves us and that he wants to show that love to us in tangible ways. But more than that, tasting and seeing builds important connections in our brains that can sustain us as we continue to grow and change and work our way through the seasons of our lives. A blackberry bush reminds me of my grandma, who could, if I’m being honest, be both prickly and sweet herself. There’s power in those memories–a rootedness that I need–a reminder of who I am and where I come from.

And over it all I hear God saying, Taste and see that I AM good, and you are welcome to take shelter in me.

Of course, I am more than cognizant of the fact that there are millions around the world who have no access to good food, and for whom life holds little abundance. The sad truth about hunger is that there are more than enough resources to go around, we just need to do a better job of helping everyone thrive. For me, that includes supporting organizations, both local and global, that seek to ensure all people have food.

I have long contributed to the work of Heifer International, a group based out of Little Rock, Arkansas that seeks to end poverty and empower individuals by providing them opportunities to become self-sustaining through farming and livestock practices.

I also have been blessed to volunteer at Harvesters Community Food Network in Kansas City. This organization does SO much with their resources, working to ensure that all people in the KC area have access to good food.

There are so many organizations seeking to help others taste and see that the Lord is good, and they need our help now, more than ever. Together, as a people of faith, we can bring God’s love to people in real and tangible ways.

Blessings and Peace,

Sara