Sorry I didn't answer when you asked.

Dear friend,

You asked me an important question. I paused. And in my pause chaos erupted. I'm sorry for that. The framework we'd been speaking in was "all for the purpose of good order, and the need to shut up instead of allowing it to occur. I certainly did not due my part, and need your forgiveness." I guess or at least certainly hope, our God enjoys irony.

In that book we were reading together, in an earlier chapter-- one your book club read together long before I attended, the author writes, actually in opening lines of the very letter we were reading in fact in the fourth verse of the opening chapter of 1Corinthians,

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge and all testimony about Christ was confirmed among you-- so that you are not lacking in any gift,as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.

So here's where I'd land. Perhaps I can think of my life as a Christ follower as a Pizza. Silly, I know. Far too simplistic. But easy to dig in, so to speak. The Father the Baker, Christ as the crust-- my foundation-- without Him I am nothing. The Holy Spirit the Sauce-- spicy, perhaps, or bland, if you grew up Lutheran (and here a part of the protected class, so able to land the joke). And our spiritual gifts? Extra toppings. Different and varied, and what gives flavor to the Body of the shell.

It would seem to me, in regard to your question, about a particular friend, and her offer of a particular topping, I'd treat it that way. I'm always curious when someone tells me "You just HAVE to try this!" Maybe it's genuine love and concern and a desire for me to have the best pizza experience possible. Some people are just that genuine. But maybe it's because I'm 55, my immediate response seems to be "Why?" Because I don't. When someone tells me I just HAVE to try anchovies on a pizza, I'm suspect. Why? Are you telling me the pizza is going to taste better for me? Because it tastes better for you? Because we share the same taste buds? Are you telling me because you truly want me to have the same flavor exploding in my mouth that you've had in yours? Or are you telling me I just have to try it because you're convinced that I've been eating something that wasn't really pizza all these years, and calling it pizza, and you're from a seventh generation family of pizza restaurateurs, and you're concerned I'm doing damage to the brand? What's at stake in your recognizing and understanding that we both love Pizza, even though what we consume looks different and hits us different? Before we go any further, can I ask the reason you're not OK with where I'm at right now? And hey, love you, but are you really super sure that adopting your recipe is the answer to my problems, because Gino down the block is selling pizza, too, and so is Giovanni around the corner. And then And the Book we read at book club mentions this troubling thing called pride. One of them claims his recipe is closer to the original recipe from the Mother country, and the other claims his pizza just plain tastes better. And then there is this other guy who has a pizza who just outsells everyone.  At least today.  I know that's just pride talking. But then I read this guy C.S. Lewis, who says the way I know I still struggle with pride in myself is when I identify it in others. So that's when I generally lose my appetite.

So how about this? If it was my friend, at least, perhaps I'd say, " If you're convinced your pizza topping is great. That's great. Tell me more about it. Let's get pizzas. Separate pizzas, because anchovies, like pineapple, are going to drift. But if you enjoy the topping, I want to see you enjoy the topping. Love is proximity, and being with the people I love, at least for me, means sharing what they enjoy. Explain how you came to this love of anchovies. Because wow, that's rare. Now me? I'm a green olive guy. You OK with that?"

And then you'll know. And if you're free to try anchovies, and you want to try anchovies, you may find out you like anchovies. But if anyone tells you you absolutely HAVE to have anchovies, well, "Don't you dare call Pizza what I have called Pizza" (Acts 10:15, NST NewSpakeTranslation)

Grace is the response of infinite possibilities to finite problems. Recognize I made that up this morning and wrote that down as it that came to me, so it's either the wisdom of God, or acid reflux.  Or some combination of both.  But I can. I may. It is an opportunity. But I live under the banner of Grace. I don't live in a land of freedom. I live in a land that is a lot more free than most lands, comparatively, let's get that right. But in the light of eternity, I am completely free. "Should", when I am at my best, is not entertained by my vocabulary. It is will, or won't, and choose, and choose when you are ready, or able. And if you are not able to chose, then grace, too.   Because my spiritual gifts are the same ones I've have ever since I tried to be the Orange Slices Guy at U5 soccer.  Love People. Hold Hands. Wipe Tears.  And Occasionally, If there's time and it's truly necessary and it really almost never is, point which way to go.

Thus spake,

me

who'd much rather be Orange Slices guy most days still.  And I love sauerkraut on my pizza but not anchovies, so no judgment whichever road you chose.  Don't want to yuck your yum, as one of my zillenials says.