Coke

I was recently in the Atlanta airport and immediately thought of Coke. I think it could have been all the advertisements. 

In the midst of the turmoil of our world, I started to sing out loud, 
"I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony, 
I'd like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company." 

This was horrifying on so many fronts that I was almost as embarrassed as the teenagers around me. I don't really remember the exact tune, but tunes and other such details are not my strong point anyway. I also started cackling as soon as the words escaped me at the humor of such an empty promise.

Now Coke has given up on world peace and targets the idea of people knowing your name and befriending you. Aim high. I'm not sure if that is revealing of our cultural shift or Coke's humility. In 1971, it was the key to world peace and now it is the key to someone knowing your name.

In the 50s Coke promised a much higher chance of gaining acceptance and "fitting in" during those awkward pre-teen and teen years. This did not work for me since Coke just made me gassy and flatulence doesn't help anyone fit in.

All of them empty promises. Coke can't help you fit in any more than it leads to world peace. We can't buy or drink our way out of the divisions that keep us alienating if not killing each other.

This would be a great lead in to say that Jesus can fix all this, but I think way too many atrocities have been committed in his name to get much buy in so I'm going to instead say . . . 

Sweet Thai Chili Sauce. 

I love this stuff and we go through huge bottles on a pretty regular basis. It is sweet and spicy all at the same time. It doesn't cover up the flavor of food, but brings out a complexity and richness that leaves you with a little taste bud party.

Sweet Thai Chili Sauce embodies the grace of paradox. It captures the mystery we often miss in Jesus when we box him into fighting for one side, namely our side. 

Sweet Thai Chili Sauce holds the tension of sweet and spicy together in one experience; a both/and rather than either/or kind of experience. It engages complexity without the arrogance that one can hold the complete answer to peace, alienation, or meaning. 

Often our answer to these eternal human conundrums is wanting everyone to be like us and do it our way so the world wouldn't be so screwed up. 

This is what we theologians call the great sin of hubris (pride). Or as Annabeth explains to Percy in the Percy Jackson series, "Hubris means deadly pride, Percy. Thinking you can do things better than anyone else... Even the gods.” Great theology.

Juggling also helps with living in the mystery of complexity.
Juggling rocks with the one you love really helps.

Maybe if we can appreciate food that holds the complexities of reality in tension, then we can offer a bit more grace with the incongruities at work in our lives and communities. 

People aren't all idiots and the answers aren't that easy. If they were, Coke would have fixed us a long time ago instead of eating holes in our stomachs.