Milk That Tastes Like Strawberries
When I was first married (and still recovering from bachelorhood), I took a drink of milk from the fridge, turned to my wife and told her, “That’s funny, this milk tastes like strawberries.”
She didn’t drink as much milk as I did and she asked me how long it had tasted like strawberries.
I said, “A couple days.”
She then helped me understand that if something doesn’t taste like what it’s supposed to taste like, it’s probably rotten. And I should stop eating or drinking it.
That’s my segue into bitterness. Because bitterness is rottenness of the soul.
Bitterness is holding someone else’s sin, real or imagined, against them. And not letting it go. (For more on this, read How to Be Free From Bitterness by Jim Wilson.)
Thankfulness is the opposite of bitterness. It’s loving your neighbor and doing your best to uphold their reputation.
Lots could be said on this, but I wanted to mention one quick litmus test to see if you’re bitter or thankful.
“But fornication and all uncleanness or covetousness, let it not even be named among you, as is fitting for saints; neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor coarse jesting, which are not fitting, but rather giving of thanks” (Ephesians 5:3-4).
This verses gives two options. You can laugh and joke about all the wrong things or you can instead give thanks.
You can’t do both.
I love humor. And I don’t necessarily think all “dirty” jokes are evidence of bitterness. My grandpa once audible farted around a group of guys and said, “Oops. I guess that guy wasn’t paying the rent.”
That’s funny.
But there is a foolish talking and coarse jesting that has a bitter edge.
When I meet someone who can’t wait to start telling jokes that degrade women or make light of serious sins, I wonder what they’re bitter about.
Maybe I could summarize it like this. Humor that tears down is evidence of a bitter heart.
Humor that builds up is evidence of a thankful heart.
What do you think?
Joseph