Tip of My Iceberg

My husband loves spicy food.

He became inspired by the tasty heat when we first went to Thailand years ago. Everything we ate seemed to bring tears to my eyes because of the heat of the spices. Someone there told me Thais have the highest incidence in the world of stomach cancer because of their insistence on heavily spiced food.

That could be an old wives’ tale. Or not. All I know is my palate was sufficiently challenged while we were there, and John found his gastronomical happy place.

We have frequented Thai restaurants in the past twenty years when we could find them. Some are close to what we experienced in Bangkok and Chiang Mai. Others were more disappointing. I will, however, never forget the time John ordered his favorite dish, pad Thai, a rice noodle dish, and he asked for it to be prepared Thai hot.

I watched him eat, tears streaming down his face because it was so painfully spicy he couldn’t taste anything. He kept on going. I don’t believe his taste buds returned to normal for a week.

Spice is something that makes everything a little better, a little tastier, a bit more palatable. William Cowper, a British poet in eighteenth-century England, coined the phrase, “Variety’s the very spice of life that gives it all its flavor.” Different, unique, unexpected spices and adventures make life more interesting.

Some would prefer the bland to the stimulating; it can be more controllable. When life gets a little out of hand, it can be difficult to manage. Thinking about all that’s happening around the world, it may seem we have enough “spice” to keep life interesting, if not downright dangerous.

Playing it safe, however, is boring. Such attitudes can keep us from growing and becoming more of who we want to be. Playing it safe can cause us to deny our values, our truths, just so we won’t rock the boat.

Sometimes rocking the boat is the best thing we can do.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were three Jewish young men who’d been taken into captivity when Babylon invaded Judah. Because of their wisdom and youth, they and their friend Daniel were selected to be trained for service in King Nebuchadnezzar’s court. But learning Babylonian laws, customs, and culture didn’t deter them from worshiping the Lord. A reality that irritated the political leaders of the region.

Trying to undermine their influence, these political leaders encouraged the king to create a huge gold statue of himself that all of Babylon would fall down and worship when instruments were played. They knew these three young men would refuse to do it. The punishment was being burned alive in a huge furnace.

The king was furious when these three didn’t acquiesce to his demands. He believed no one could save them from his power. When confronted with possible death, the response of these men was anything but safe.

“If the God we serve exists, then He can rescue us from the furnace of blazing fire, and He can rescue us from the power of you, the king. But even if He does not rescue us, we want you as king to know that we will not serve your gods or worship the gold statue you set up.” Daniel 3:17-18.

The three men were thrown into the furnace, and it was so hot that some of the soldiers died trying to pitch them into the flames. Though they threw three men in, they saw four men walking around in the fire; it was an appearance of the angel of the Lord, a pre-incarnate appearance of the Son of God.

The three were taken from the furnace, and not even their clothes were singed or smelled of smoke.

These three didn’t lead safe lives. They followed their beliefs, which meant more to them than their safety. Their convictions made life more than a little spicy; even when the heat was turned up, they refused to bow to Nebuchadnezzar. No compromise; no denying their values.

A little heat, in the spices we eat and the choices we make, goes a long way.